FateRubeusAter
by voidwalker77
Summary: When Heroes, Devils, and Angels clash none is sure to escape unscathed. Demon Hunter Nero found himself paired up with a nice partner for once, confusing gender identification aside. Meanwhile, a half successful assassination attempt left Kinslayer Michael paired with a most intriguing partner. just what plot lies underneath a supposedly minor ritual from the east?
1. Chapter 1

It is strange how the dim, empty room seems to twist all sense of distance. It appears unbelievably wide, and yet makes one feel uncomfortably pressed. The candles placed in its center faintly lit the faces of the men in the room, their features unclear and indistinct.

All except one.

Without much of a care for the other occupant he exhaled, releasing tobacco smoke of a distinct scent. One of the other three, an old man short but straight-backed, swatted the vapor away.

Eyeing the smoker very carefully, he began.

"So... 'They' are also involved?"

Rocco Belfaban, the head of the Department of Summoning who is said to have held this position for over fifty years, though no one is certain, asked.

To his horror his inquiry was answered with a nod.

"RIDICULOUS!"

A younger man, handsome and with red hair, raised his voice.

"I witnessed the battle for myself! That thing should not be allowed to exist... And now you're telling me that 'they' are entering the fray!?"

There was a strong sense of duty in his words. One could easily discern that he is a member of the elite from his strong highminded gaze and refined features.

His name is Bram Nuada-De Sophia-Ri, the successor of the head of the Department of Evocation, and one of the first-class instructors employed by the Clock Tower.

"Calm yourself." The last man with loose long hair, furrowing his brows in seeming displeasure, commanded.

Lighting the cigar in his hand with the candle's flame, the man called El-Melloi the second shook his head slowly from side to side.

"I assume 'their' participation is the byproduct of the activation of the [Grail's] backup system?"

"For the ones that comes from 'above' that is. You can never really know what the ones from 'bellow' are up to, maybe it is nothing more than coincidence."

The cigar smoker, an African-American man perhaps in his 50s or 60s, finally spoke. His second revelation further aggravating his 'costumer'.

"...This can't be..." Bram Nuada-De Sophia-Ri muttered in disbelief

"[Demons] and [Angels]... Now of all times... Fucking hell." El-Melloi II cursed.

In contrast Rocco Belfabam managed to retain his composure, but he too in truth was anxious in regards of this development.

"And you are sure that your claims are credible?"

"As they've always been. And need I remind you of the last time the [Clock Tower] shrug off my warning?"

"...We must contact 'him' immediately then..."

"That's impossible. As of yesterday the professor of the [13th faculty = Department of Outer Studies, have taken an extended absence of leave..."

"...The reason being?"

El-Melloi took a huff of his cigar. Even after exhuming it took him a few more seconds before he reposte.

"Family vacation. And judging by how much he rant about it there's now way the wife is going to cut it short unless it's the end of the world."

"What about the twins?"

"They're with them." This time, it was the broker who answered. "Their hands are tied just like their father's."

"...I see..."

"...We have no choice then? We have to... call upon her... The [Umbra Witch]..."

Chill ran up to all men present, although Bram's suggestion does indeed seems to be the only choice left it doesn't make it any less pleasant. Dealing with her is almost as risky as dealing with [The old man of Kaleidoscope].

And she's even more demanding than he is.

"Now-now. I get that things seems bleak, but there's no need to bust out the big guns just yet."

"So you've also come with a solution? Morrison?"

The broker, now named Morrison, smirked.

"More like a machinations to buy us some time, really. Though if we are lucky enough they'll be able to wrap things up albeit roughly..."

"And the Church? We must obtain their involvement in this war by any means

necessary to let all know of our legitimacy."

"Trust me, they are already aware of this turn of events even before I do. Hence, my proposal is as the following:

I'll send in some guys who already had a run in with the Church's lackeys, therefore both sides will be aware of what the other is up to. That way neither will but in on their respective 'matters'.

Now all that's left is justification..."

Bram picked up his discreet message.

"You want us to appoint the one who you will hire as a master..."

Morrison only shrugged.

"He's far stronger than the average human, plus he can stood his own ground against a [Servant]. If you add him in as one of your own I'd be killing two birds with one stone, rouge magi, demons, and angels alike."

All three of them remained silent. Just as he had professed, this course of action is indeed the best. But to appoint an outsider as their representative, and a [Hunter] at that. Needless to say the clock tower's pride will not come out intact.

"...The risks are a tad too much for vanity this time around, don't you think? And you could always spun whatever tales you want about this whole thing anyway. Perhaps a [Devil Hunter] who just happen to ran across a stray servant while doing his job?"

With a weak nod Rocco Belfabam relented, being followed by El-Melloi who finishes up with the detail.

"We still need to bring in the professionals from the outside to fill up the numbers. This Holy Grail War is on an utterly different scale from the ones we have experienced so far. The Clock Tower must still provide at least one or two magi, of course."

"Then we shall begin gathering the ones whom we feel best for the situation. We will await the Church for further information regarding their 'representation' so we only need to find five more candidates."

"In that case, I will make the selection regarding the holy relics. Time is not on our side, but it should be possible to gather catalysts which will give us strength on par with the enemy's."

Hearing Bram's words, Belfaban struck the stone floor with his rod as he announced.

"This is completely unlike all the imitations of the Holy Grail War rituals of our time. In scale alone, it is beyond the Grail War which took place thrice in Fuyuki. We must brace ourselves for what will come. Let them fully regret sullying the name of the Clock Tower."

Without another glance at one another, the four men each left the room in separate ways.

"I couldn't care less about that." was what he thought about the old man's, although he was only a tad younger, last word. For during the whole span of his career, and by extension his life, J.D Morrison remained alive by putting survival above pride.

Finished with his cigar he threw what's left to the floor, fishing out a cellphone from his pocket. Such action would be frowned upon in a place like this, but in this case it's not because he did so in a populace of anti-technologist.

It was because the phone, oozing an unearthly air and possessing an alien design, is not something that should be used in a place occupied by humans.

"It's me. Quick question, how long will it take for you to get to London?"

XxX

Voidwalker77 present

Fate/Rubeus/Ater

Chapter One: The Job

XxX

"So my task is the same as always."

"Yes. Our readings indicate that they have already made the [Fall]. And in a quite large number at that, there's even a [Valiance] among them..."

"I see. That is indeed unsettling. And the nearby Church, have they already been wiped out?"

"Highly unlikely. We believe that it was the YGGDMILLENIA who cut off any means of communication to prevent information leakage."

It was a conversation taking place in a confessional. Inverted in its current use however it was the priest who relayed the information, and the listener is most definitely not a penitents.

"More importantly, this job is related to the so called [Great Holy Grail War] Isn't it? One where the [Servant Ruler's] is present as a mediator?"

"Yes. So I assume that you know the nature of this endeavor."

"...Very much so. And the place?"

"The city of Trifas, now completely under the [Black Faction's] control."

"[Black Faction]?"

"Yes. That is the name of faction opposing the [Clock Tower] spearheaded by the seven masters of [YGGDMILLENIA]. While the magi that is sent by the former are dubbed the [Red Faction]. Is something the matter?"

"Quite. I find their naming to be quite discourteous, especially for the minorities in the united states. Black and Red..."

While his analogy is not far fetched one could only make such connections if he assume the name has a hidden meaning. Simply put it was nothing more than an opinion that is neither correct or wrong at the same time.

"Ah, do forgive me for getting off track. So the summoned Ruler, I am to act as his or her chaperone?"

"If the summoned [Ruler] is really a saint, then their first priority would be to eliminate him or her."

"Then it all adds up, they hate saints almost as much as they hate me. And what about those three? They are indirectly involved in this just like I am, or am I as to act as the scout as well?"

"I am also to inform you that that role has already been assigned. Temperance-dono is already in Trifas, and you are to rendevous with her once you obtain Ruler's cooperation.

Levi-dono and Martha-dono are also given tasks of their own, but will re-join you as soon as they accomplish their mission. I believe that is all that you need to hear?"

"Just one more question. The Church is paying for all of my travel expenses just like always aren't they?"

"...Yes. We have already purchase your plane tickets, the rest of the remittance will be discussed after the matter is settled."

"That's when the real fight start then."

"Ah, please forgive my insolence. It's not that I doubt your goodwill, but money is integral even for me you see."

To his surprise the priest chuckled. "I do understand it, actually. No matter how much charity you have you can't trade it with a piece of bread."

"We have capitalism to thanks for that."

"Indeed. That is all that I was told to inform, would it suffice?"

"More than you thought father, do please pray for my success."

This time the priest let out a laugh. "I never thought that I would ever heard 'that' from someone like you..."

"A little luck goes a long way. And just because we do not share the same religion doesn't make your prayer any less effective."

"I sure do hope so. Then, I shall pray you luck Michaelangelo."

"You are mistaken. It's Michael Di Angelo."

"My mistake. May god be with you, and may his flame light your path."

"...This might be rude of me to say. But you really are the coolest clergy I've ever met."

"I take that as a compliment, I really do."

"That's a relief. Thank you father and have a good day." With that he left the confession booth, his earlier exchange fated to be buried as another biblical confession.

Michael is a brick red haired young man enjoying his adolescence to it's fullest, though his sense of clothing and array of hobby mislead others to think that he was one of those people who are 'born old'.

'What's wrong with carpentry and wearing suspender?' He often asks, the young lad will never understand. But the comments that he look and act like a gentleman gangster was something that he received all around.

Parked outside the church was one of the few prized possessions he actually valued, a 1974 mint-condition Cadillac Fleetwood Eldorado, painted in the same shade of his hair.

The irony escaped him and only him.

"The Church did say that they're going to pay for everything, hopefully that also include getting you to Romania..."

He affectionately rubbed the hood as he said so, getting on the driver seat and started the engine. Scarlet, as he called her, roared to life. A pleased smirk now adoring the young man, he really do have a soft spot for such trivialities.

Driving away he sent one last glance at the Church's courtyard, a statue of the archangel Michael erected right at its very center.

"I wonder how everyone will react if they know..." He shook his head, while 'she' is indeed technically 'him' his mother by all means was not the first, hence there was nothing wrong with everyone's perspective of viewing the angel Michael as a male.

"Things really are weird 'up there'." He was not allowed to share such information to others except a very select view to avoid scandal among other things. It does provide a private source of humour though.

"Oh, well. Wish me luck then Mother, you're probably watching right now anyway..."

Following those words he drove away with the airport as his destination, and method of transporting his car across the ocean as his main concern.

XxX

"So are you going to give me a job or what?"

Teenagers. This person in the room of Rocco Belfaban, the head of the Department of Summoning at the Clock Tower, most certainly dress and act like one. Gothic, so he believed his style is called.

"We'll get to that in a second. But first, do you know of the [Holy Grail W...]"

"Don't know. Don't care."

Teenagers. The department head sighed. Sensing this the teen clicked his tongue. A young man who is juvenile incarnate, despite having his right arm on a sling not one man alive would dare to antagonize him without a second thought.

"Look old man, we both know that I'm not a magus and what kind of 'problems' I'm paid to deal with. So why don't we just skip to the part where you tell me what is it that I'm supposed to kill?"

"...Very well. To keep it short it has come to our concern that forces from [Below] may be involving themselves in a particular ritual called the [Holy Grail War]."

"And you want me to put a stop to the whole thing?"

"On the contrary. Your task is to ensure that 'they' will not intervene during the course of the war, for in this occasion our very participation is integral.

A rebellion of sort have taken place in Trifas, and we must personally crush them to ensure that this mutiny will never again happen in the far future."

The teen raised an eyebrow. "So if this whole thing is really important for you guys then why hire me? If words got out it'd be bad for your rep."

He was caught of guard by the display of insight, but nonetheless quickly recovered.

"Why yes. But we have seen first hand what the enemy is capable off. And while we as Magus are prideful being prepared is also something that we have etched to our existence."

"And here I thought you were going to say looking down on everyone else." the younger man quipped. "But if it's really that big of a deal why bother telling me this?"

"See that's the thing. We must win by any means necessary. In fact only another one of the master is a full fledged Magus while the rest of them are freelancer..."

"...Where are you getting at?"

"We had sent fifty specialized hunters, the magus variant that is, in an assault. But only one returned alive."

Now he was interested. "And it wasn't a demon that got to them?"

"No. It was a [Servant] that decimated them, the highest ranked and strongest of all spirit based familiar."

"And you want me to terminate this servants as a side job?"

"Not as a side job. You see a servant could only be summoned by a Master, a participant of the war chosen by the grail. To gain the right as a master however is not that difficult, one simply need to get hold of a [Command Seal] either by receiving it directly from the grail or taking another master's by force..."

Belfaban trailed off. He then took out an ebony case from the desk's drawer, opening it carefully—inside is a piece of wood with signs of having been worked on. He followed suit by pulling out a briefcase filled with you know what before continuing his exposition.

"All that's left is to summon the servant. But because demons are involved things have become quite turbulent. The worst case is, the intelligent demons would aim for the master and steal the servants. Do you understand what I'm saying...?"

"...Guess Dante was wrong after all. You guys do know how to have fun."

The teen grabbed the piece of wood, tossing it upward like a ball.

"This thing's going to help me get a servant, is that it?"

"A catalyst. By using this during a summoning ritual you will call upon a specific heroic spirit."

"Neat. So who does this belong to? Is this a splinter of captain hook's peg-leg?"

"No, though we do have his hook. That is a piece of a table, a round table to be exact."

The teen's expression darkened, seconds later he clicked his tongue again.

"Sorry to burst your bubble old man but I don't think I could get along with goody two shoes noble knights. I should know, my brother was one."

There was no use in teaming up with a strong person if they can't get along, he know that much.

"No need to fret. This is an example of a group catalyst you see, so while it will allow you to summon a knight of the round it will call forth a knight whose nature is similar to your own."

"...Alright. But I want my payment up front, at least the half of it."

Belfabam tapped the briefcase in response, enough said. Without a care he grabbed said baggage and bolted out of the room, his so called catalyst now resting inside his jacket's pocket.

As he stride through the halls glances and glares were sent his way. He paid it no heed though the treatment do greatly annoyed him, soon enough he quickened his pace hoping to get out before anything else happens.

That's when he realize he jinxed it.

"Shit..." He lowly muttered under his breath. Not because he doesn't want to sound rude, but because he was afraid that 'he' would hear him.

A male only a year or two older than the teen. His wardrobe was definitely not something that a resident of this place would appreciate, but the three girls he's flirting with certainly didn't care. For as always good looks and charm prevailed over all.

Turning around the teen raised his hood in the hopes of escaping unnoticed, but his wish instead became his downfall.

"Nero!? Is that you!?"

Stopping in his track because he know better, said teen let out a defeated sigh as he turned around.

Nero was tempted to try and bolt away while he was busy wrapping things up with the girls, but experience dictates that escaping him (at least in his current state) is neigh impossible. So he opted to face the inevitable like a man.

Cocky and arrogant as the many male magus brand him, while the female population view his antics as bold and adventurous. Regardless of how others view him Dante Sparda will never cease to be Nero's bane of existence.

"What do you want Dante?"

"BRRR! So cold!? Is that how you treat an old friend? I thought we're practically brothers?"

Dante Sparda was the youngest of the Sparda twins. A rarity among rarities he is half of the entire population of Nephilim, a hybrid between an Angel and a Demon.

"Yeah you're a real brother figure alright, Only because you never stop 'bothering' me."

"Hah! You should really let V handle the puns, you're not very good at it..."

"Whatever. Make this quick because unlike you I've got a job to do." Nero gestured at the briefcase.

"You mean the one you only get because Vergil and I got dragged away on a vacation. Who do you think called Morrison in the first place?"

"Whatever, your loss is my gain. So what is it that you want to say?"

"Not much, just watch out for a bit okay. I got a bad feeling about this and Mom wouldn't listen."

As irresponsible as he is Dante's sixth sense, or his gut feeling, is one of his traits that has already exceeded his father's. Nero is not dumb enough to just shrug it off due to personal bias.

"Is that all? Cause I got deposits to make and a plane to catch." He has no intention of admitting so out loud of course.

'Not to mention Servant to summon...'

"Yeah, that's about it. You know, maybe you and your friends can catch up with us by the time you're done. We're going to Japan, a city named Fuyuki or something. Dad's got a demon sword-smith who'd be willing to sell Katana for cheap!"

"Isn't that Vergil's thing."

"It is. You should have seen him geeking out. Going on and on about this one dude named... Masamune I think?"

"Muramasa actually." A new voice chirped in. "The legendary hermit whose sword is rumored to be capable of severing fate itself..."

To those who are unfamiliar with the Sparda family, it would be as if another Dante had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. One that is much more refined and composed compared to the first.

"Tsumugari Muramasa. Perhaps that mythical construct is the basis of my Yamato..."

"What did I tell you, geeking out. Can't you save it until we at least get there Verg?"

Vergil Sparda, Dante's older brother and the elder of the Sparda twins. Unlike his younger counterpart the Clock tower tolerate him more due to his urbane upbringing and elegant behavior. A fact that he constantly rub against his sibling's face.

If Dante was an inferno of unpredictability, then Vergil is a swift and focused gale. The analogy was a perfect comparison of the two brothers.

"Sorry little brother, but I simply cannot contain my excitement. Although perhaps you can benefit from listening to Japanese folklore. Their stories often promote discipline, something that you are clearly in desperate need off..."

Nero sighed, here we go again.

"Oh really? Last time I check I'm not the one falling behind our tabs. What was the score again me 1348 victories and you 1347?"

"When did you learn to count? We're even."

"Sure~ sure~. Well even IF, and that's a really big if, we're even... I got a feeling that it won't stay that way for long..."

"Is that so? Then do please elaborate more little brother..."

Dante didn't reply and instead 'flicked his switch'. The change might be unnoticeable, but tread close enough and one can physically feel the heavy air surrounding the three.

Any normal human would instantly be crushed should they come too close.

Vergil with a condescending smile, a white Katana suddenly appearing on his hip.

Dante with a patronizing leer, a hellish great-sword now strapped on his back.

And Nero who gives zero fucks and has zero time for this shit.

"Look. I don't give two shits about whatever sibling rivalry you have, but I'm inclined to remind the both of you that I am to contact Eva immediately if you retards decide to continue..."

To add an emphasis Nero pulled out his phone, the the boys' mother contact displayed on its screen.

(record scratch)

"Okay now! Calm down! No need to do that!"

"Dante's right. We might have been caught in the moment. But I assure you, we are now perfectly calm."

That was good enough for him. And there's no way he's sticking around any longer.

"See you morons around then. Hopefully not anytime soon."

The twins took no offense to his crude language, that's just the way he is.

"Happy hunting!" "Have a pleasant trip." Dante and Vergil wished respectively.

Watching the teen's retreating back the younger Nephilim folded his arms. A storm is brewing on the horizon and for once his family is not at its very center. He's not sure how exactly he's supposed to feel about that.

"You really think he can handle it?"

"Alone? Most definitely not. But that's about to change soon enough... With that said however, there is no use in pondering it too much."

Dante could only sighed, his brother is right. Getting worked up about stuff that may or may not happen is a waste of time.

"We better get a move on. Mom's not gonna be happy if we got to the airport late."

"Indeed."

XxX

He didn't understand why he was lying on the ground here, why he couldn't even lift a finger and why his eyes were filled with tears from overflowing pain.

Such a nightmare couldn't be.

Such despair was impossible.

He should have been participating in the Great Holy Grail War as a magus and as a member of Yggdmillennia.

He had chosen a catalyst he was confident in. He had gotten a hold of knives that had actually been used by Jack the Ripper through his channels as a magus, and had proceeded to summon him in the Shinjuku district in Tokyo.

He was to control the Servant who most specialized in killing Masters—Assassin—in order to perform stealthy maneuvers in the war. That should have been the duty of the Black Master, Sagara Hyouma.

"So that's a servant? HAH! And those stupid mages says that they're the strongest of familiar! I can take her out no sweat!"

The bird, the one who paralyzed him with a conjured lightning bolt, boasted. It was an unknown summoned beast roughly the size of hawk with dark blue plumage. Already shocking enough that it is capable of speech, but to gloat that it can fight a servant...

And for whatever reason, Sagara believed that it wasn't an empty threat.

"We are not here for a fight [Griffon]." The summoner stated. "Strictly a parlay with our little friend here..."

His attacker, a slender and pale young man that you can almost call sickish, silenced the avian. He gave of an air of eerie and mystery, complete with black tattoos covering his upper body up to his neck.

Facing him and taking the form of a little girl in a bondage outfit, Jack the ripper or rather Assassin of black stood defensively in front of a woman with brandished knives.

The woman she is protecting is Rikudo Reika. She was the start of how everything had failed.

When he had tried to use her as a sacrifice (to be precise, he had tried to reproduce Jack the Ripper's crimes in order to maximize the summoning's chances of success), but she had displayed greater resistance than he had expected.

Because she had refused to be killed, the summoned Servant ended up choosing not him, but Reika, as her Master.

The next second 'he' came in, and before he knew it Sagara was struck down.

"...Who are you?" She asked with a sharpness unbefitting of a little girl.

The mysterious one smiled. "I have no name... I am but two days old."

"Reciting poems at a time like this? Geez, why don't you summon Shakespeare while you're at it? I'm sure you two will get along just fine." Griffon chided, and his master scolds him for not getting his priority straight.

Said master ignored his familiar, and continued his stride whlist further intonating.

"My mother groaned, my father wept,

Into the dangerous world I leapt;

Helpless, naked, piping loud,

Like a fiend hid in a cloud.

Struggling in my father's hands,

Striving against my swaddling bands,

Bound and weary, I thought best

To sulk upon my mother's breast."

With every syllable he grows nearer, and with every line Assassin lowered her guard. He was only a step away by the time he had finished, crouching and offering his arm towards the little girl.

"...You're like me..." Assassin stated aloud as she reached out to him. Grabbing his slender fingers with her own.

"Hah! Sorry to burst your bubble girl but you're nothing like him! He's a nasty piece of work that's what he is! A living walking pile of fuc... Ouch!"

Before the avian can let out any vanity his master thwack him on the beak with his sword-cane's handle.

"Language Griffon, we are in the presence of a young lady..." He then returned his gaze towards Assassin.

"My name is Edward Blake. But my friends calls me V."

"That's a weird nickname."

V chuckled to Jack's comment. "It indeed is, but it sticks for better or worse."

The little Assassin obediently nodded, she then turned towards Griffon.

"Hey-hey, big brother V! Is he your parrot?"

V's shock of being called big brother was eclipsed by Griffon's protest.

"Parrot!? PARROT!? Are you blind or something!? Do I look like a parrot to you!?"

"But you're a bird, and you talk. The only bird that talks is a parrot, right?" She tilted her head innocently, Had it not for the murderous air around her anyone would have mistaken her as a little girl.

"Her logic is sound it seems..." V agreed while chuckling.

"Oh screw you! I'm out!" Just like he claimed the avian vanished in a puff of black smoke.

"Aw... Mr. Parrot is gone..." Jack pouted.

"No need to fret little one. I have more friends that you can greet."

Sagara couldn't believe what happened next. A panther, with much more darker fur than normal, came into existence by crawling out of V's shadow.

"It's a cat! A really big cat!" Jack excitedly identified.

"This is shadow. He is one of my three 'friends' along with Griffon..."

"You have another one!? Can I please see him too, big brother V!?"

Sadly he shook his head. "My other friend is a... shy one, he doesn't like to be seen by too many eyes at once."

"Aw~"

Sensing her disappointment shadow approached the little girl, rubbing his snout against her head like a cat would to a human.

"he-he~" Like a child would she quickly forgot about her earlier sadness.

She played with the panther's snout and pet him without a hint of fear, and in response shadow licked the girl's cheek as if it was a tame tabby cat.

"I have tell you all of our names, now what about yours' little one?"

Assassin obediently answered, still playing with shadow. "Our name is Jack the ripper!"

V only nodded, swallowing the information as if it was only natural.

"They say that a servant could only be summoned if the possess a wish? So what is yours' if you do not mind telling me?"

He seem to hit a landmine as the girl didn't answer, but after a second she revealed her deepest desire to him.

"We want to go back. To our mother's womb where it's warm..."

"... Very well then. If that is your true desire the all of us shall do our best and help you achieve it."

"Really!? Even Mr.Parrot !?"

"Yes, even Mr.Parrot..." V can hear Griffon's protest but paid it no heed.

"We must move now, Jack. Time is of the essence."

"U~. But... can mother come to?"

"Mother..." V leveled his gaze towards Reika. "Well that's entirely up to her... Although I assume that I need to book another plane ticket..."

Though seemingly normal excluding her allure V could easily recognized an 'anomaly' when he sees one. Coupled with the fact that she managed to retain her equilibrium despite everything that had happened...

'Ah, yes. This woman is one of us...'

Rikudou Reika had a monster inside her. She was a loving monster who, while embedding herself into society and acknowledging her own deeds as evil, would still calmly kill even a baby if it was for the sake of the little girl who believed in her.

"That is of course, if you are fine with me slowing you down..."

"In truth it would be the other way around. We are in desperate needs of someone capable of performing humdrum chores and the likes, you'd be a lifesaver if you can do just that."

Reika nodded. "I can do that, though I must warn you that I'd only be dead weight for the rest of this war..."

V chuckled. "You've said the magic word. Now I am inclined to allow you to tag along."

"Yay~ mommy is going to!" Jack threw herself at Reika's embrace. The woman smiled as she returned the gesture, hugging the servant as if she was her real flesh and blood.

No. To her she was more than that. She was a girl who believed in her, and Reika will fight the entire world just for her.

"Now all that's left is you..." V turned towards Hyouma, still laying on the ground.

He tried to move his body to no avail, watching in fear as the summoner hovers above him.

"I wager that you are wondering how did it all comes down to this. You see I was in Romania by pure chance, on a job that has nothing to do with this [Great Holy Grail War] of yours.

I was investigating whether or not the YGGDMILLENIA are involved with the sudden influx of [Demons] there when you suddenly left, an act that I found peculiar. So I followed you here... and you know the rest...

So my friend at the end of the day, my curiosity is your downfall. But considering the fact that you're still alive..."

The summoner raised his cane-sword before plunging it through Hyouma's right arm. The magus screamed in pain but no voice came out of his throat.

Black tendrils began to grow from V's palm, growing down and entangling his weapon as they made their way towards the magus.

The tentacles pierced through his skin yet left no wounds of marking, only a sensation of dread as if his very soul is being tampered with.

"You should be thankful for my interference... And now... The payment..."

He didn't need to look up to know what is it that had been taken. His command seal, the prove that he was among YGGDMILLENIA seven masters, now belongs to V.

"With that, your role in this story has come to an end... Your path is split between the unknown... or death..."

V pulled his cane out causing Hyouma to let a silent yelp, his words perfectly summarizing his two possible courses of actions

He can run away and never look back, diving head first to the unknown hoping that he can escape the mage association and probably spending the rest of his days in fear.

Or he can try and call for help as fast as possible, calling forth his clansmen in an attempt to wrestle back his command seal.

Picking the second one will result in his death, that much he knows.

"Now let's leave alone. He has a lot to think about, so lets give him the peace and quite that he needs..."

"Then can we get some clothes for Jack?" Reika suggested. "It's be bad if she is seen in public wearing... that..."

"Clothes? Even though I don't need any?"

Clothes were unnecessary if she went into spiritual form. But Reika and V obviously rejected that line of thought.

"That's no good. Isn't it boring that way? If you're with me, Jack, the long flight to Romania will surely be fun. So let's buy you some clothes. And then we'll board the plane.

"Is that fun?"

"It is." V confirmed. "No matter how many times I flew, riding a plane is something else entirely..."

"Oh~! Can it be? Can big brother V fly with Mr.Parrot?"

"Only for a bit..."

As they continued their idle chat they left the downed magus behind. Making their first step towards a war that will forever change their live.

'Romania... I wonder if Nero is already there... and that half angel too...'

V smirked. "Prepare, prepare the iron helm of war..."

XxX

Voidwalker77 here, in truth I've been interested in writing this ever since DMC V came out. I absolutely loved everyone there. Nero and Dante is as badass as always, while V is literally my spirit animal.

Anyway this is my version of ptl's challenge, the Infernal Holy Grail War, with my own twist. I'll also be using borrowed elements from Bayonetta and Granblue fantasy (especially the primarchs) in future chapters.

I also made it apparent that the Dante and Vergil of my fic are the ones from the reboot DmC because of my fondness of their alternate design and background story, the game is also pretty good in my opinion. And in this universe the brothers are in good terms with each other.

In fact Sparda is an honorary lecturer in Clock Tower though barely anyone ever come to his class. Eva (who is an angel) is also alive and well and as you can notice, she's calling most of the shots in the house.

Anyway the story will focus mostly on Nero and V (whose background is different from their game counterparts). Though my two OC (both half angels), Michael and Temperance will also have their turn on the spotlight. The Spardas will only make cameos though they may get some action should I ever made it to volume 4.

Nero's appearance is based on his speacial edition skin, while V is based on his EX skin.

That's all I have to say, I hope this story lives up to your expectation. Please check out Sterggae's Devil may cry remnant as that crossover greatly inspire me.

Voidwalker77 signing out, and as always CIAO!


	2. Chapter 2

Trifas—a small city north of Sighișoara, the birthplace of The Impaling Prince (Kaziklu Bey). Its walls, built to defend against the invasion of the Turks during the Middle Ages, are still perfectly preserved,surrounding the citadel and one part of the city.

Many of the city's buildings were built during the Middle Ages and have undergone repeated repairs and reconstructions, making them no less valuable than those in Sighișoara. Its population of 20,000 is based mostly around the work of agriculture and textiles.

And of course, there is what you could call the symbol of the city, a gigantic castle which sat atop a small hill, towering above the streets: the Fortress of Millennia. This castle has never changed hands since the Middle Ages onwards and up to present day. The invasion of the Ottoman Turks, the outbreak of Black Death, and the explosions of modern war—much hardship has befallen on Trifas, but the fortress and the clan which owns it still stand strong.

The name of the clan is Yggdmillennia. They were magi who in the past came to Romania from Northern Europe. And now, the castle thrived more than ever before.

It is not only the clan of Yggdmillennia within its walls. There are menials with fine features— no one knew where they came from—working various chores and patrolling the castle grounds with halberds in hand, something unthinkable in this day and age. Walking along the stone floor, one would find status with glowing eyes...

A sight that would shock any whose eyes laid upon it... but no simple resident of Trifas would be so reckless as to step within this strange castle. When the lights in the citadel are lit, they are forbidden from even stepping outside their homes.

That is why three months ago, when the lights which had been extinguished for so long became bright again, the people exchanged glances and gloom clouded their faces. The rulers of the castle, those bloodstained tyrants, had returned.

Praying for the safety of their home, the people of Trifas continued their daily lives...

With music blaring from his headphones Nero continued his trek towards that very castle (though right now he was on an extended break), uncaring of the warning the many locals had given him. He was paid to deal with the black faction and [Demons] and he'll do exactly just that.

In fact the only reason he hasn't charge in guns blazing like he always do is because he hasn't summoned his servant yet.

Nero wasn't an idiot. He can go toe to toe with a servant and that's a fact. Heck, he's confident that he can take on two or three in one go, but all seven at once?

Even he knows his limits.

So here he is, occupying one of the many clearings inside the forest surrounding the castle, engrossing himself with the mechanism of Servant summoning...

"What the fuck is this shit!?" The half demon half shouted as he read the summoning instruction, snuck in by the shitty old man inside his down payment brief case.

Nero have been spending the last ten minutes trying to understand the manual. Problem is he's not even sure if this was the right guide, because it sound exactly like one of V's corny poems.

"Let silver and steel be the essence?

Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation?

Let red be... FUCK THIS!" Angrily he crumpled the paper before throwing it away, gritting his teeth in frustration.

"What's with those chanting and circle crap!" He shouted out loud. It was baffling that the black faction has yet to detect his presence, but that's only because of the intervention of another.

"Young Master. Do please keep quiet, it's already hard enough to hid both of our 'signature'. Adding noise nullification is asking too much even for me."

A humanoid monster of above average height. It was as if a suit of armor had been animated to life with the vilest of demon magic.

Nero didn't care of his origin. Proto Angelo, or as he named him Nelo, was one of the two things his 'father' left him. And between his caretaker and his right arm, he'd cut off the latter before giving up on the former.

"Sorry bout that Nel. This shit is super confusing."

"It is alright. The arcane arts can be as aggravating as it is intriguing..."

"Yeah..."

Nero pulled out the piece of round table from his pocket, the catalyst that the Clock Tower had provided him. Just seeing it make him even more doubtful of his situation.

The Knights of Round Table is basically a medieval Order of the Sword in his opinion. He never gotten along with anyone who tries to emulate the noble group, what hope does he even have with the original? The old man's words of summoning a knight with the same mindset seems to be nothing more than an wishful thinking.

Maybe he should just wait until V gets here. Somehow that brother from another mother of his managed to summon, though he also heard something along the line of stealing, a servant.

Nope. Now he got to summon his whether he like it or not. He's not gonna let himself get one up'd by him of all people.

That is if he can even figure out how to do so...

"If I may suggest an alternative approach..."

"At this point? I'm all ears..."

"From my understanding the system is already set, all that we need to do is simply provide the power source of the summoning..."

"Where are you getting at Nel?"

"My belief is that this chant, as well as the location of summoning and the circle, acts as a connector of some sort to this country's leylines. In other words they draw power from an external source to activate the machine that is the summoning..."

A smile crept into Nero's lips. "So what you're saying is, I just need to pump enough juice and the Grail will take care of the rest?"

"I believe so. An in our fortunate case... Providing energy wouldn't prove to be much of a hassle, no?"

"Nel. You're a fucking genius."

Nero grab a hold of his catalyst with his 'right arm'. He usually kept it camouflaged with a sling, but with the device taken off his greatest secret is now for all to see.

A reptilian-esque claw that extended up to his elbow. The proof of his demonic heritage as well as one of his three signature weapons.

"Although this method has a drawback of its own..."

"Being?"

"Well, a burst of energy like that will definitely garners attention..."

Nelo should have known better, because his master's smirk morphed to a perfect grin.

Words were no longer needed. With vigor Nero began to pour demonic energy into his catalyst, the seemingly unremarkable piece of wood beginning to shine in response.

"It's working Nel!"

"Yes. But, um... is it just my perception or is it suppose to do that?"

What the butler was referring to is the fact that the catalyst's glow only seems to get brighter and brighter. Further fueling his concern it also began to radiate heat, enough for even him to notice a distance away.

Nero noticed it too. Problem is, he had already stopped for quite sometime now.

The two reached the same conclusion.

"Duck and cover!" With all the strength he can muster Nero threw the catalyst skyward.

Seconds later the night sky lit up as if a new star had been born.

XxX

Chapter II

First Contact

XxX

By the time Fiore and Darnic reached the throne room, where the ritual would take place, four other Masters have already gathered. There are also homunculi taking care of various menial tasks and silently bringing in the required thaumaturgical tools.

The magic ward itself has already been drawn. It uses a mixture of gold and silver, kept in a liquid state by a temperature-retaining technique. This complex and delicate ward was devised to summon multiple Servants at once.

All noise came to an abrupt stop. Darnic chose this moment to move to a spot next to the throne and declare with outspread arms.

"Place the catalysts you have each gathered upon the altar."

The Masters nodded.

The first—Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia, a portly man. With a single look at his expression, one can tell that he is a pompous man. His craft is alchemy. His catalyst is kept in a case, perhaps due to its value, or not wanting the other Masters to see it.

The second—Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillennia, the girl in the wheelchair. Her craft is spiritual evocation and human engineering. Her catalyst is an ancient arrow, its tip blackened by something—perhaps blood.

The third—Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillennia. Her craft is the dark arts. Despite her clean-cut appearance, her entire body reeked of blood; likely it is due to her kissing the innards taken from the bellies of beasts and humans to be used as sacrifices. Her catalyst is a glass bottle. There are still stains of some kind of liquid remaining inside.

The fourth—Caules Forvedge Yggdmillennia, the younger brother of Fiore. His craft is

summoning. With the freckles on his childish face, one would not think that he is eighteen years old. Diffidently, he muttered the spell for summoning Heroic Spirits over and over again. His catalyst is an old piece of paper. On it is drawn a human figure, with the words 'the perfect human' scribbled in the lower right corner.

And the fifth, who has already completed his summoning—Roche Frain Yggdmillennia, the Master of Caster. He is likely the youngest among those present; the thirteen-year-old was watching the scene with interest from slightly further away.

"Rare of you to leave your workshop, Roche."

Roche shrugged when Darnic called out to him.

"Well, this is a Heroic Spirit summoning. You would be lucky just to see it once in your whole life. Even I'd leave my workshop if I can see it a second time."

He sounded adult, though he overdid himself. Then again, he is quite famous as a magus in the field of doll engineering, putting aside their appearance and design; his puppets, created with only the pursuit of function in mind, lacked somewhat in their artistry.

Caster had been summoned by Roche two months ago, at nearly the same time as Lancer, and they have spent the entire time manufacturing the golems they would need for the Great War in their workshop within the castle.

"Where is Caster?"

"Oh, the master will be coming soon. He's a bit busy with the design of his Noble Phantasm."

"Then I must give my apologies later. But let us gaze upon this mysterious ceremony once more."

"All right."

Roche shrugged. The boy called his own Servant his 'master' out of respect; to him, the legends that Caster gave rise to are worthy of worship. He has every trust in Caster, and feels genuine happiness at helping him in the workshop.

Caster materialized next to Roche before long, appearing in his blue mantle and full-body suit and wearing an eyeless, mouthless, featureless mask. Roche called out to his teacher in joy, and Caster wordlessly nodded.

Confirming the positions of the four summoners, Darnic lowered his head in reverence towards the empty throne.

"My Lord, we will now begin the summoning."

'...Very well.'

Particles of light gathered on the throne, massing together and creating a human form. The man whom Darnic called Lord was dressed in royal fashion, black as a shadow in the night.

By contrast, his face was shudderingly pale, and his silk-like white hair stretched long. The instant he appeared, the air in the throne room became tense. When the man stands, one feels overwhelming pressure; wherever he looks, there is ceaseless trembling.

But make no mistake, it is not because the man who sat on the throne acted barbarously or violently. It is simply that, once exposed to his icy gaze, you would recognize yourself as a hopelessly weak and powerless existence.

He is the strongest trump card prepared by the elder of Yggdmillennia, the Lancer of Black— Vlad III.

The greatest hero of Transylvania, known fearsomely as the 'Impaling Prince' to the Turks, had also spread another name across the world.

The Little Dragon... or, the vampire Count Dracula.

Of course, the one before them is not a vampire at all. He was a man of devotion, and a hero who ascended to the throne, no matter how small the nation may be.

Especially here in Romania, where his deeds of turning back the numerous invasions of the Ottoman Empire, the Turks who have trampled over every other country, made him a great hero.

Yes, as long as he is in Romania, he has possibly the greatest fame of all—a match for Heracles in Greece, or King Arthur in Britain. After a glance at Darnic, Lancer's majestic voice echoed through the chamber.

"Now, call the Heroic Spirits who would serve under me!"

"As you wish."

With a respectful bow, Darnic then announced to the four Masters.

"Let us begin, proud magi of Yggdmillennia. With the completion of this ritual, we take our unretractable first step onto the path of war. Do you possess the resolve?"

The four Masters kept silent, revealing their conviction.

The air in the throne room changed again. The senses of the four Masters sharpened, so that even the pressure of the Impaling Prince watching them from behind was pushed aside for the time being.

It is true that the summoning of a Servant is simpler than the complications of a normal greater ritual. However, it is a clear truth that the ultimate mystery of summoning a Heroic Spirit is something that can take one's life if performed incorrectly.

One cannot charge forward recklessly, but inching forward and confirming the safety of every step is also the act of a fool. What is needed now is cold-heartedness and boldness—being able to point the barrel at your own head and pull the trigger swiftly.

"Let silver and steel be the essence.

Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.

Let black be the color I pay tribute to.

Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.

Let the four cardinal gates close.

Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate."

They had not rehearsed this beforehand, of course, but they all spoke the incantation in harmony without a single word out of place.

With the first verse complete, the glow of the magic ward swelled. The raging prana trampled and assaulted them. But even Caules, the lowliest of the four, stood firm and continued the incantation without hesitation.

"Let it be declared now; your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword.

Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.

Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth."

The incantation—the prana that now races within their Magic Circuits—is calling for Heroic Spirits from their [Throne]. It appeals to the greatest of beings whose existence is carved in myths and legends.

"An oath shall be sworn here.

I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven;

I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell."

Three of the Masters paused at this precise moment. Only Caules, watching for this opening, continued with another verse.

"Yet you shall serve with your eyes clouded by chaos.

For you would be one caged in madness.

I shall wield your chains."

The additional incantation for [Mad Enhancement]—with this, it is certain that the Servant he summons will be afflicted by madness to some degree. A weaker Servant will acquire the tenacious physical capabilities of a Berserker.

And now, the last verse.

Despite the torment of their rampaging circuits and the fear that they would run out of control, the four could feel some regret if only for an instant; that was the degree of exaltation they felt during this ritual.

However, they continued regardless—to tightly grasp in their hands the greatest mystery of all.

Uncommon monsters flowing with light, brimming with miracles, and surpassing thaumaturgy—in other words, Heroic Spirits, were attempting to enter their world.

"From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the holy balance!"

At the same time as these words were spoken, the raging storm made the homunculi cower in panic, and Roche covered his face with his hands. Lancer, Darnic and Caster let it wash over them like a cool breeze.

And so, they manifested.

There is a blinding light coming from the complex and elaborately drawn magic ward. It only took a moment for miracles to take form. They were heroes, taking the phantasms of men as their own flesh, humans who reached inhuman heights.

The storm became a whisper, and the blinding light dimmed and faded. There are four figures standing within the circle.

One is a petite girl in a white dress. In her hand, a giant mace. With empty eyes, she slowly looked at her surroundings.

One is an androgynous-looking boy, fancily dressed. Out of the four, only he is looking at the Masters with a wide smile on his face.

One is a man with a bow in his hand. Wrapped around by a grass-colored cloak, he knelt on one knee and faced the ground.

And the last is another man whose entire body was encased in radiant armor. A greatsword is on his back. His silver-grey hair waved gently in the wind.

"Ahh..."

There was a sound of wonder from someone in the room. Even Darnic's eyes were stolen by their majestic appearance.

As thus, the Servants spoke the words of the beginning as one—the words which would uncover the muzzles to this fierce Great Holy Grail War of seven versus seven.

"In accordance to the summons, we present ourselves—the Servants of Black. Our fates shall be with Yggdmillennia, and our swords shall be as your swords."

Once the words left their lips the fifth summon of the night occurred.

XxX

'It's a gangster...'

The class Ruler. A non-standard class that could only be summoned should the holy grail's backup system is activated, she is to mediate the two factions' clash and to the best of their abilities manage collateral damage to the bare minimum.

That is her true identity. She is Jeanne d'Arc—the Master-less Servant of the [Ruler] class, and the absolute controller of the Holy Grail War.

She should have been summoned like any other Servant—actualized in the city where the battle would take place without needing to borrow the physical body of anyone else.

Nevertheless, she has been summoned this time via possession of another's flesh and what's more, she was summoned in her homeland—a France still with lingering vestiges of its past.

Besides, Ruler should have been the eighth Servant to be summoned—this time, she was the fifteenth Servant. Among all the Holy Grail Wars of the past, the scale of this one is most likely the largest.

Perhaps there was some accident during last large-scale Holy Grail War...

In any case—having already been summoned—the girl is determined to surmount all difficulties in order to carry out her mission.

"Pardon me milady, is everything alright?"

And right now she is being hit on.

"Do forgive my bluntness, but... Are you alright? You have been quiet for sometime now. Perhaps my presence has brought you discomfort? If so then I shall leave immediate..."

"No..No! It's just that um... Your clothing. It is very... peculiar."

When a servant is summoned they are automatically granted knowledge in regards to the current era, usually language of the country where they are summoned and the overall history of the world itself.

The typical image of a 1920 gangster wasn't one of them, no. Her knowledge of such pop-culture reference is due to her host, for the french girl named Laeticia is an enthusiast of black and white noir movies.

He merely smiled. "I get that a lot, really. You're probably thinking that I look like a gangster from one of those old movies, must be the vest and fedora..."

Jeanne nervously laughed. She was used to dealing with men. Whether it's young soldiers her age of generals twice older than her, heck she was used to arguing with inquisitors that try and antagonized her.

Fending off a playboy on an airport won't be much of a hitch, but...

"Um, I don't want to sound rude. But what business do you have with me Mr..."

His eyes widening, the young man realized his blunder and sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. Jeanne could have politely asked him to leave her alone and he will most definitely do as she command, but Laeticia's incapability of handling men seems to affect her.

For some reason Ruler found it extremely hard to convey her heart's content freely. In the end she was forced to go with the most polite answer she can produce.

"Michael. Michael Di Angelo."

This time it was Jeanne's eyes that widens.

"As in the painter?"

"Angel, actually. You see, my father is a clergy."

"Ah, I see. But, um... you still haven't answer my question..."

"Oh! Right! Well, you see. I wanted to ask you whether or not you have a method of transportation. You've been wondering around this part for quite sometime now..."

She didn't. Ruler have planned to use some form of transportation to get there, either taking a bus or hitchhiking. Considering his hidden motive it would be for the best if she hid her arrangement...

"I am planning to take the bus or hitchhike someone who shares the same destination."

He raised his eyebrows, honest concern written all over his face.

"At this hour? Forgive my bearings but I'm honestly shocked that I would find someone like you in the first place."

The sight of such a defenseless-looking girl tottering about with a bag in her hands must seem like the easiest mark in the world to the low-lifes that hang around the airport... but it never even occurred to them to lay a hand on her. They were not so unruly as to drag mud into a pure pond.

Perchance he really might be a simple kindhearted civilian.

"I highly recommend that you stay on a nearby hotel for the night and wait until morning for the next bus..."

"I cannot do that. This is not something that I can postpone, not even for a day."

"...(Sigh). Then at least do tell me where it is that you are heading, at the very least I'll try to the best of my abilities to assist you..."

"Thank you very much, Angelo-san. Currently I am heading to Trifas, there is a... matter that I must attend there."

Michael's eyes once again widen, surprise now adoring his two emerald orbs.

"What a coincidence, I am heading there myself actually. For a job that is..."

Jeanne can tell that he wasn't lying, that or he had fallen for her (technically Laeticia) that hard to fabricate such story...

"If you do not mind, would you allow me to act as your escort? I already have a vehicle prepared."

"Then I'll be in your care."

"It is my pleasure Ms...?"

"...Laeticia. My name is Laeticia."

He nodded. "Please wait here, I'll return with my car in just a moment."

Keeping his promise, he arrive behind the wheels of what she identify as an old luxury car. Ruler proceed to

"Thank you for your generosity."

"I'm simply helping because we just so conveniently shares the same stop. Should you be heading the other way around I would have left you, honestly."

That shed a new light on his personality. So he's the type that would earnestly assist other but relents should they hinder his works.

She supposed such thinking is not wrong.

After putting her bag inside the trunk she settled down on front passenger seat. Even with embed knowledge it still amazes her how a metal construct on wheels could ever replace a horse, although this may be nothing more than her biased view.

Jeanne took a deep breath as she awaits the vehicle to move.

"...Um... can you please put your seat-belt on?"

Ruler flushed. Hastily she did as told, her awkwardness ten-folding as Michael chuckled.

"You're not really one for vehicles are you?"

"...Yes..." was all she said.

"Well you better get comfortable. The trip will probably be twelve hours long, breaks included."

"I see... That will have to do, then."

Ruler felt somewhat disheartened but, on a whim, decided to read a notebook she had taken out of her bag earlier.

"That's an interesting choice of literature."

"Ah, this... I am catching up on some of my studies..."

"I can see that. Not wanting to overstep, but what kind of matter request the presence of a French schoolgirl?"

"...That's...I have some relatives waiting for me in Trifas..." Ruler's answer was a made up one, and she's sure that he can tell as much.

"None of my business, I understand..."

"I'm very sorry... What about you Michael-san? You said that you are here on a job. If I may ask, of what kind?"

"Hm... It's quite complicated. But unfortunately it's something that I cannot disclose as well..."

"...Is that so..."

"Well, since the topic of reasons behind our visits are off limits then why don't we talk about the place? Although I do not know about you I am bound to stay there for a while, do you have any recommendation for tourist spots?"

"... I do not know, I was in a rush to get here I haven't make any plans yet..." She felt a pang of relieve being allowed to at least answering a question honestly.

"You being here with me tells as much, really. Not that I mind of course." He remarked sarcastically, further flushing the saint in hiding.

"From what I know Trifas isn't really a tourist spot. They've got that great big castle—but, funnily enough, it's private ground and off limits. There are some church open for the public, though I still don't understand why such a place could be considered a tourist attraction..."

That piqued her interest. "And why is that?"

"Well one of the things that my father taught me is that no matter where you are, God will always listen to your prayers.

Seeing people go to the Vatican, or any other church besides the one in their hometown in that matter, kind of goes against the entire point don't you think?

Do they really think that praying somewhere else would make any difference?"

His tone was a critical one. Yet Jeanne couldn't sense even the tiniest of malice. He really was just stating an conclusion out loud, though he could have most likely picked his words better.

"I do understand your line of thought. But that's no reason to chide their effort in trying to connect with the lord.

I'm sure that regardless of their motive they will probably obtain something important at the end of their journey."

"A self imposed pilgrimage, I've never consider that..."

They started to talk theology after that, and to her pleasure it wasn't one where two people argue about which religion is correct.

'He's the type that has no qualms in speaking his thought out loud. He meant no harm but he shows no restraint at all...'

"If the devil refuses to bow down to human and then was punished for it, why would he be torturing sinners in hell? They are on the same train one way or another..."

Most of his conceptions are either blatantly controversial or an entirely new interpretation that could be passed off as 'high thoughts'. But Jeanne found none of them ridiculous and tries to answer to the best of her ability.

"To think that I would find a devout as open minded as you are, this world really is full of surprises."

"I don't really consider myself as a devout. If anything, Michael-san in the more dedicated one."

"With all of my ramblings? There won't be a shortage on sisters who would reprimand me for asking such stupid questions. But then again which one do you think the lord loves more?

The ones who obediently follow him? Or perhaps those who eternally seeks the answer to that question... "

Once again Jeanne answered without a hint of doubt.

"Neither. I'm sure the lord judges all of his lambs equally and fairly. No matter what they believe in and who they are."

He was taken aback by her curt answer, and for the first time took his eyes off to road to spare a glance at the woman sitting next to him. At first Michael was at lost for words but his expression quickly turned softer and he nodded in understanding.

"A textbook answer, yet it is clear that you really believe so from the bottom of your heart."

He sighed. Though his chargin was directed at himself rather than Ruler.

"It seems that I owe you an explanation, Saint of Orleans. Though I assume you are already aware of my 'nature' beforehand?"

She nodded, Ruler had expected as much.

"I was not completely aware of such, since you haven't lie to me however, I'll gladly lend an ear."

"I have your host to thank for that. If it weren't for her corporal essence you are sure to see past my little trick immediately. Which, if I may add, itself is an oddity."

"Yes, I think so too. There is something out of place with this holy grail war, and as a Ruler it is my duty to find out what. To assist me in getting to the bottom of it, is that why you were sent? "

"Among other things. There are external forces at play here, and my main task is to make sure that 'they' won't intervene on your work..."

"If you are referring to the magus who may come after my command seal, I assure you, I can handle them myself."

Michael chuckled as if she had said something funny.

"On that there is no doubt. The ones I'm sent to deal with however are much more... determined than the average magus. To sum it up, our friend over there is the least of our problem."

In an instant, the alarm in her mind was raised.

He is a danger! That Servant is dangerous beyond compare!

Michael scoffed. "A demigod of all things. They're sure to find us now."

Shifting the gear instead of slowing he pushed the gas pedal to the ground and accelerate. Out of reflex Ruler grabbed the handle to the door with all of her might, and was shocked to see that the steel weren't crushed under her grip.

The car crashed through the bounded field without much of a hitch, unknown to Jeanne her driver was quite displeased for having to do so. There's sure to be scratches on his precious Scarlet.

He slammed the break and forced the car to a screeching halt, a set of tire marks now drawn on the road.

"Seat belts off. Also, I do not want to sound rude but can you please let me do the talking? With all do respect negotiating is not one of the things you are known for..."

To his relief she nodded. "At the very least I should trust the capability of my partner."

"It is my honor to be considered as such."

Their foe was already armed and waiting by the time they exited the car.

"...Servant Ruler, I take it."

She immediately transformed into her battle-dress proper when called. Armor woven from prana enclosed her. The situation may be more critical than she imagined—enough to instil he will to fight in Ruler.

Looking up, what they saw was a young man waiting for her, kneeling on one knee atop a giant motorway sign.

His hair is long, unkempt and so white that it appears transparent. His gaze is sharp like a steel blade, and the red stone buried in his exposed chest similarly projects an enthralling lustrousness. But what draws the eye more than anything else is what is wrapped around—or rather, has become fused with—his entire body: a set of golden armor that gives off a divine radiance.

While every single part is beautiful in its own right, once combined with the man, they exuded far more ferocity than they did attractiveness. Truly, what a curious man.

Ruler watched him without lowering her guard in the slightest, and said.

"You are... the Lancer of Red, yes?"

"Better known as the son of Surya and the eternal rival of Arjuna. Karna."

Michael's follow up diverted all attention to him.

"...I was informed that the servant Ruler will come alone. Though I am intrigued that you can discern my identity so easily without her assistance..."

Karna is well known as the invincible hero of the Mahābhārata, an ancient Indian epic. Brought into the world by the Sun God Surya and the human woman Kunti, he was bestowed with a set of golden armor as confirmation of his heritage. Karna was born to become a great hero.

"No. Had they sent anyone else I probably wouldn't be able to do so. There aren't many hero who has an armor for a skin, that itself allowed me to narrow down the search by quite the margin. As for how I managed to know that you're the child of a flame deity..."

Flame engulfed the young man's arm, no. He himself was the one who generate the heat, its sheer brightness enough to tell Karna that the saint's companion is not one to be taken lightly.

"I believe the expression would be 'it takes one to knows one'..."

Soon enough the flame condensed to an empyrean weapon, a crimson great sword that looked like it was sculpted out of a giant ruby. So beautiful it was one would doubt whether it could be used as a weapon. But brittle it was not, for what's within his right hand's grasp was a miniaturized solar star.

"[Sword Of Michael]. Just like your spear, it's a family heirloom..."

In response, a bluish-white light seemed to penetrate through Lancer's right hand. However, he is only bringing form to the object that should have been there to begin with.

It is a massive spear, far longer than the man himself is tall. The spear is so enormous that it does not seem possible for a human to wield, and of such exquisite appearance that it is practically a work of art. It can only be described as a weapon granted by the Gods.

The swordsman raised an eyebrow. "So I take it negotiation is out of the question?"

Karna nodded. "My presence here speaks for itself—it is clearly a declaration of war."

"What can come of killing me at this stage?" Jeanne interjected. She was a Ruler yes, but even though she could single handedly upset the balance of this war she has no intention in doing so.

"The most likely scenario? Your master either sent you here out of paranoia or because he knows my friend over here would not approve of his or her wish...

You, on the other hand, are nothing more than a hunting dog with a one track mind. Aren't you Lancer?"

Judging from Lancer's reaction, that is to envelop himself in a tornado of prana and fire, his conclusion is most likely spot on.

"Now, let's not be too hasty here. A simpleton you are, still, I'm convinced that you're aware which side is at disadvantage..."

Lancer didn't need to be told. His fellow inhuman, while weaker, has the numeral edge at his disposal. Bearing in mind that it was the servant Ruler that he's supporting Karna's percentage of winning is bordering towards zero.

Nonetheless the son of Surya's will persisted.

"It is commanded of me that you die here. Even if I must pay with my own life, I shall carry out his orders."

"An admirable, albeit foolish, dedication. Guess there is no other choice..."

The air around Michael shimmered before turning into a twister of flames, once it died down he was dressed in a crimson set of armor that perfectly matched his sword. He switch his hold to a two handed one and pointed the sword's edge to the road, the asphalt under him liquifying with his very presence.

Jeanne too armed herself with her trusty pole-arm. The white crest of Orleans billowing under the starry night sky, ensuring victory to those who fights under it and filling her allies with hope.

For Lancer it was an announcement of the hopelessness he was in. Yet, discouraged he was not.

Karna's plan is not to exchange blows but to definitively release the true name of his Noble Phantasm before Ruler can exercise her 'privilege', His unadorned plan now turning to his only shot at victory thanks to the presence of her assistance.

It seems that what awaits the three is conflict, and yet...

"Do you still not wish to cross your blade against mine?"

None could hid their true self in front of Lancer's [Discernment of the Poor] and neither did his fellow child of flame tried to deceive him. He was preparing for a fight, but he didn't consider Karna as an enemy.

The Empyrean knight smiled "You might not listen to reason Lancer, but I am sure that circumstances will leave a different kind of impact..."

Karna's instincts' blared. He must put a stop to whatever it is he's doing at all cost. Becoming a living meteor he threw himself towards the swordsman, the road under him turning black from the scorching heat.

(CLANG!)

Positioning herself between the storming Lancer and her partner, Ruler swatted the knight of Lance away in an impossible display of strength. Not at all harmed by the flame Lancer engulfed himself in.

"I apologize for the delay, everything is set now."

Michael turned his weapon upwards, his ethereal armament unleashing pulsing with light akin to a beating heart.

"Even if you are the son of the sun, I highly recommend that you cover your eyes. You as well, Jeanne."

A golden circle then appeared above all three of them, and it was thanks to his skill that Lancer did as suggested instead of attempting to dodge whatever it is the knights had sent his way.

Letting the attack connect, Karna quickly learned that following through with Michael's instruction had spared his sight. Removing his shielding arm, it took his vision a few more seconds before they completely adjust.

For someone who was unfazed at his own death, the scenery rendered him speechless.

All of them hadn't move an inch and are still on the highway, with the exception of that everything else have changed.

"Where are we...?" Jeanne asked out loud.

"(Cough 2X). Ladies and Gentlemen allow me to be the first to welcome the both of you to the space between [Paradiso] and [Earth]. It's name, [Purgatorio]."

Michael revealed whlist spreading his left arm, gesturing towards the endless evangeline space. It was beautiful and as it is terrifying. Mesmerizing gold as far as the eye can see, fragrance so sweet it numbs the nose. This was not earth, but a glorified image of the planet that reached the level of tacky.

The polymerization of two realms that should never cross, such is the in-between named [Purgatorio].

"Why did you brought us here?" The saint asked again.

"That's a good question, Jeanne. Karna, you and your master too should listen because I'm not repeating what I'm about to say.

I already told you earlier didn't I? About a group that might intrude this war. In case you haven't notice they're not human."

To the knight's relief the two servants were on guard now.

"Good, you're both taking this seriously. You see, this group is not in it for the grail. As for their goal..."

Bell chimes filled the air and reverberated throughout their bodies. Although the sound perfectly mimicked ones from churches there was no comfort nor warmth in it. Jeanne knows that this wasn't the call to pray, but an announcement of the arrival of something else.

"Demigods, Saints, Hybrid... Those are among the five things that they despises the most... And right now all three are present on one place. There's no way they'll turn down a chance to swoop us all up like this..."

Turning to a reverse grip with his right hand Michael posed himself so that both his left hand and left leg are positioned forward. It was a left stance, and Karna knows that he was ready to fight for real.

A golden circle, exactly like the one that transported them here but five times in size, appeared on the sky.

In a burst of speed the scarlet knight brandished his sword at the portal, moving in a pace that impress even Lancer.

(CLANG!)

A gigantic obsidian great-sword, so large it made her partner's own look like a toothpick, blocked the attack. Just like Michael's own it radiated ethereal aura and sheer pressure that's borderline oppressive. Two muscular red arms can be seen holding the weapon firmly, their gargantuan size reminding Karna's of the Ashuras' that once roamed his homeland.

With a forward motion 'It' sent Michael flying backwards before revealing its full form. One that forever will be etched on all of its beholder.

A celestial knight, or perhaps a samurai, with literal red skin. Armored in jewel-encrusted gold and ivory with a pair of shining golden wings. Sighting such being would be more then enough to take anyone aback, yet once it comes to a full view the shock would only multiply.

It was headless. There was nothing above it's neck except a perfectly flat and polished red surface. It held its sword upright, the instrument almost covering almost all of it's upper body. Such stance would've been considered as flawed since the the instrument's sheer size would obscure the wielder's vision.

But for the valiance that is not the case.

On the base of the sword and right above the handle was a face made out of white marble, something tells them that it wasn't mere decoration.

"And here I hope to take you down with a surprise attack. Guess you Stone-faces do learn after all..."

What came out of the cherub's lips was said in language long forgotten. Taking the form of an Incomprehensible ringing to Ruler's and Lancer's ears.

Michael nodded.

"That is indeed the truth, I might be taking you all too lightly. Well, whatever the case is I do not wish to leave my associates out of this dialogue of ours."

He once again snapped his finger, again, making both Jeanne's and Karna's ear to ring. Said ringing disappear as fast as it appears, and for a moment everything seemed unchanged.

"There, language barrier should no longer be an issue."

"Hmph. To think that you'd go through all the trouble to create such spell. As illogical as always."

"Now don't be like that! It is fairly easy to pull off once you've memorized the Latin dictionary. And these two friend of mine would 'really' like to listen why you're even here."

"...Our motive is the same as always, to enforce the [Creator's] will upon this world and remove any blasphemy of any form."

Even though the face lacked an both servants knew that it was staring right at them. It was a stare that surrounded Jeanne during the course of her trial, as well as the one Karna received for not knowing his place before being picked up by Duryudana.

"In other words you're trying to create another dark age. I take it back, you old farts do never learn after all."

"SILENCE!" [Valiance] roared. "IT IS YOU AND YOUR KIN WHO NEVER LEARN! YOUR ENDLESS INTERFERENCE IS THE ONLY THING THAT STOOD BETWEEN US AND THE REALIZATION OF OUR DREAMS! THE PERFECT WORLD!"

The burst of emotion was as abrupt as it is eruptive, enough to startle both Ruler and Lancer. The swordsman on the other hand was once again unfazed. In fact he had gone sour because of the accusation.

"What the perfect world is was never ours to decide. We are nothing more than the occupants of this planet. Anything better than them we are not."

"I HAVE HEARD ENOUGH OF YOUR RANTING! WE SHALL BRING TRUE UNITY TO THE WORLD!"

"Is that why you're really here then? Using [The Holy Grail] to grant your wish?"

"HAH! WE HAVE NO USE FOR THAT FALSE CONSTRUCT! Once I have finished with all of you I shall destroy the false relic with my righteous sword!"

"And carry out a genocide while you're at it."

"CLEANSING! An existence brought by a false god, a delusioned human who mistook her own thoughts as the lords', and a half breed filth that is the result of a forbidden union! All of you are sacrilege that slanders the lord's name!"

[Valiance] lifted its sword, creating another golden circle above him. A Flock of winged centaurs exited the gate, followed by two humanoid hawk-like virtues. One shrouded in lightning and another by flame. The gateway finally closed, but perhaps it was already too late.

"COME MY BROTHERS! LET US RID THE WORLD OF THESE IMPIETIES!"

They were outnumbered and surrounded on all sides. An uneven clash that not even the greatest tactician could overturn. Yet all three of them stood firm, not even letting out a speck of fear.

"So now you have seen what 'you' are dealing with. I'm expecting you to stop targeting us until this matter is taken care of, and maybe a reinforcement while you're at it..."

"My master has retracted his previous order for the time being, as for reinforcement..."

Lancer spun his lance with jaw dropping ease, handling the godlike spear as if it was a part of him. He pointed the weapon's tip at [Valiance] with a frown that does not suit his character.

"My master have agreed to allow me to take care of this personally. And I could not simply turn my back on someone who mock my father and family even indirectly."

"A superb display of loyalty. Still foolish though, and you can't change my mind."

This time conflict was truly their only way out. There was no possibility of negotiating with them, only clash between swords with one side as victor and survivor.

"Jeanne." Michael called the saint, ignoring her codename. "Can you do this?"

The saint was in a state of contemplation when he had asked the question, all of this seemed so surreal and unbelievable. For a devout like her especially it might even be despair inducing...

For an angel to call her a fraud...

Jeanne slapped both of her cheek with her armored arm, an act obviously performed to psych herself before the fight.

"Yosh! Let's go!"

"...It seems I underestimated you, my mistake."

The knight bowed ever slightly, and Karna could tell that he really did regret his prior judgement of her. He turned towards the angels with a solemn expression, resuming his battle stance that mirrored the [Valiance's] own.

"[Empyrean Arms] can damage the soul directly! Not even Achilles could escape unharmed! Fight as if you are still alive and don't hold back!"

As one the warriors of [Paradiso] charged, and splitting into three their opposition retaliate.

XxX

If there's one thing Mordred doesn't like about a second chance to earn her rightful birthright and having numerous chances to clash his blade against actual worthy opponents in the process, is the fact that she has to be someone's lackey.

Sure, she accepted the grail's proposition without giving the details any reading. But come on! It's an all expense paid trip back to earth coupled with literally everything she actually liked! Even the solemn Agravain would be caught off guard and missed a thing or two.

Back to the topic, Mordred ain't gonna be anyone's underling. She's the flesh and blood of King Arthur! The prince and rightful future ruler to the throne of Britania!

If any two bit mages think they can boss her around, and god help them if they turns out to be like that twat Merlin, then they better hope they can win the Holy Grail with only three commands...

She'll take on anyone and anything! There's no trials she can't handle and overcome!

Summoned in the middle of sky however, that she didn't see coming.

Landing was easy of course, and to her delight the she found herself right in the middle of a battlefield. Putting two and two together she figured out that his master must have summoned her with the intention of tackling the enemy head on.

A plus point for the guy, but he (so his instinct told him) is yet to earn Saber's (her class which obviously is the strongest) stamp of approval just yet.

The knight of sword was about to jump into action when his master made his presence known.

"You're Saber!?"

A teen, probably a year older than (the state she was summoned in) her, asked. Further boosting Mordred's mood he wasn't one of those snobbish spellcaster, far from it the kid's letting out a vibe of a battle harden veteran. She's also pretty sure that he's not 'fully human' but his scent was different from Merlin's so whatever.

"Yeah! I ask of you are you my master!?" Their contract hasn't been perfected yet, but Mordred isn't going to just stand around with all of the action going on.

Without bothering to wait for her master Saber joined the fray, speeding and crashing towards the closest enemy that turns out to be a golem. It was akin to seeing a castle wall being brought down by a battering ram, the golems' stone and bronze bodies shattering as though they were paper and wood.

Another golem attempted to crush Saber with its immensely large body, but Saber simply roared and launched her sunken body upwards, blowing the stone puppet aside.

Her motions contained none of the elegance of knights or the beauty of swordsmanship—she was closer to a berserker or some wild beast.

Saber swung her two-hander sword with one hand, leaving her other hand open. But rather than throw a punch, she instead threw her sword—the very heart and soul of the knight—at a golem coming from above, skewering it.

Stopping the punch of a second golem, Saber gave a shout and threw her attacker away—sending it on a collision course with the skewered golem above and causing both to be shattered. Plucking her sword out from the raining debris she sets her sight on, surprise surprise, yet another Golem.

Looks like those are the only thing the enemy can make, probably the work of their caster. Well they'll at least provide a decent warm up until the enemy servant shows up. With a grin on hidden by her helmet Saber prepared to fight once more.

She wasn't surprised when said target was obliterated with a single blow, the fact that said destruction wasn't her handiwork was what baffled her.

It was her master's.

From the corner of her eyes she caught a glimpse of him bolting from where we stood to the golem's side, rearing back his right fist before shattering it with a single punch.

He turned to Mordred as if nothing was wrong.

"Yeah, I'm your master apparently." To add emphasis he showed her the command seal on the back of his left arm.

"Then the contract is settled."

"Great, then first thing first..."

Here it comes. Looks like asking for a master that respect her dignity as a knight (though she didn't fight like one) was too much. Hopefully he won't be too much of a pain in the ass.

"That's the enemy's headquarters." Nero pointed towards the imposing castle in front of them "We're gonna storm it, right now."

And she changed her mind, she and her master will get along just fine.

"I've finished with my side over here, Young master. Shall we push on the assault?"

Saber turned her head to the direction of the voice, once again having her expectations shattered. If her master wasn't completely human then this guy definitely wasn't human, she didn't need her instinct to find out that much.

The thing in front of her reminded Saber of the many animated cursed armor that her sorry excuse of a mother made, the twist being the one in front of her being even more ominous than the ones back on her day. And that's saying something.

"The hell you're talking about! I've barely getting started and the enemy's right in front of us! You're seriously considering retreat!?"

Doesn't stop her from saying her thought out loud of course. And again her master seemed to share the same sentiment.

"You heard him Nel! We're just getting started!"

The demon butler sighed. There's two of them now, for better or worse.

"Very well, but do please allow me to ensure we have the means for a tactical retreat..."

"Suit yourself, we're probably not going to use it anyway."

"Damn straight!"

The master and servant the fist bumped, signifying the start of their undoubtedly long lasting partnership.

"Oh? Looks like they're sending in more of their troops."

Just in time to face the second wave. Instead of Golems, marching towards them in large numbers, were Homonculus armed with halberds.

"Did they ran out of puppets already? Well, I was getting tired of slashing at rocks anyway." Mordred remarked. It's a no brainer that the cavalry in front of them were weaker than the squadron of statues they had decimated earlier.

"It seems that they wish to further gauge our abilities. Shall I do the cleaning, young master?"

"Nah. You two stand back, I need to loosen up before the main dish too you know."

Mordred is pretty sure that she had smiled more today than she had in her entire life.

"Show me what you got then, Master!"

With a smirk Nero accepted the challenge, charging at the army without being bothered at the slightest.

Even if quantity is at their side quality is sure to triumph.

In blink Nero cut down the distance, appearing right before the Homonculus who led the charge. The poor man-made earth-born couldn't even react fast enough to widen its own eyes.

"Boo."

A perfect real life reenacment of a fighting game move, with an uppercut that broke the sound barrier Nero had slain the enemy's spearhead and incapacitated many others around him. All the while launching himself up to the air..

Unfazed by their leader's death three of the soldiers took off, forming a loose diamond formation mid-air. With practiced synchronization they raised their halberds at the airborne hunter.

The steel never get to bite into his flesh.

Casting a glyph mid air the half demon used it as a platform for a second jump, effectively dodging the undodgeable strike. With a heel drop kick he shattered the middle homonculus spine, the other two probably sharing his fate for being caught up on the sonic boom.

Only now realizing how dangerous their enemy is they only stared as as the hunter descended through the air. Nero on the other hand wasn't as nice to let them plan for anything.

Whipping out his trusty Blue Rose the hunter pivoted himself. Casting yet another glyph he used it for the exact opposite of his erstwhile maneuver and propel himself head first to the earth.

Becoming a tornado Nero fired Blue Rose rapidly while spinning, the double barrel's bullet tearing through two or three homomculus with each discharge. Though it was an effective move the fact that Dante invented it off all people irritated him to no end.

By the time he landed there was only 3/4 of the original force left.

Nero grumbled in annoyance. If it was Dante he would have wiped out the exact same number left alive. But the Nephilim would use two full automatic (magically reloading) handguns, while the hunter was armed with a double barrel (also magically reloading) revolver.

"Let's just call it a tie for now."

Another pair homoncules charged at him, this time acting as a sacrificial pawns for his brethren. Behind them were ten others, looks like they assumed that if Nero cut him down he won't have time to guard against ten simultaneous follow up offense.

Well they guess wrong.

Holstering Blue Rose Nero grabbed the handle of Red Queen, vanishing from their sight and reappearing right in front of them. The first vanguard, having learned from his predecessor's demise, attempted to guard.

But his halberd was no match for the hunter's sword.

With a diagonal slash Nero slain his enemy. Not even blinking the second vanguard moved to his right side, sending in a thrust aimed at the hunter's abdomen.

A for effort, so the half demon thought.

Grabbing the halberd with his right arm he easily lifted the weapon and the soldier who desperately held on. Flailing them around like rag doll before throwing him as one of charging brothers.

Instead of catching him however, the one in his flight-path jumped over. Not even taking his eye off his target for a second.

'Now I'm pissed.'

With a reverse grip Nero jabbed Red Queen to the ground, revving it's handle that doubles as a gear shift. The blade now glowing ominous red and radiating dangerous warmth.

In an union that can almost be called a work of art the ten soldiers surrounding his strike as one. Some lowering their center of gravity to its very limit for their fastest thrust, others jumping up with every ounce of strength their leg can muster for an air assault.

All of them burned.

A full 360 degrees slash, in other words a full circle cut. That was the move that Nero just pulled off perfectly. Its destructiveness multiplied by Red Queen's own, the sword spewing fire that rivals the true flames of hell.

Forget the unit that tried to overwhelm him, almost the entire squadron sent after them was caught in the attack. Leaving only several dozens of homonculus and seven Golems.

Mordred laughed at the scene of carnage her master unleashed.

"Hah! As expected of my master! He's no pushover!"

"Naturally. Even among the top demon hunters, young master is among the most revered."

That explains why her master is pretty good, in her actual fighting standards. He's not some whiney mage who lock himself in his workshop and assumes he's the best just because, Her master is a bona fide warrior with actual field experience under his belt.

"Speaking of master, it seems that I cannot view information anything else from you excluding your parameters. A passive (Noble Phantasm) that his your information perhaps?"

"Something like that. Why are you asking anyway? He's my master, not you."

"On the contrary, whatever it is that my master can perceive I can too and vice versa. Also the young master have given me the ordeal of handling all tactical matters, so your input is very much needed."

Another pillar of flame exploded, no doubt her master's handiwork.

"Fine."

Saber half growled. Right before Nelo's eyes her helmet disassembled and became a part of her armour, the display reminding him of a character from one of the comics his young master read.

"Oh my."

The knight had quite a youthful appearance. This was so unexpected that the butler let his words slip out without thinking, and did not notice the knight's mood immediately worsening.

"You better pick your next word carefully..."

"No-no, I simply find you to be quite attractive. Are all members of the round table this eye catching?"

"We're even better with our sword if that's what you're asking. Of course nobody was better than King Arthur and me."

"Then I'll look forward to see round table's finest at work."

There was a small smirk on Saber's face, accompanied by the tiniest speck of displeasure.

She heartily swallowed the praise whole, but the noticeable paradox was how she obviously held her fellow Knights in contempt all the while elevating the King if Knights in high regards.

It was a response that Nelo is fairly familiar with. Furthermore if their employer's word is to be trusted then there is only one knight of the round that the young master could possibly get along with.

"Saber, are you by any chance Mordred?"

"Hm? Didn't master already told you who I am? I don't know what catalyst you used, but you called for me specifically, didn't you?"

"No, we used a fragment of the round table..."

In an instant, Saber's recently recovered mood plummeted, something Nelo noticed immediately thanks to years of handling his master.

"Though it's probably lost forever now thanks to our... irregular method of summoning."

That did the trick though Saber remained miffed. Looks like the only thing that can get her mood back on track is a good old fashioned rumble.

'There really is two of them now...'

"Well whatever the case is, I'm looking forward to work together with you."

"You sure about that? I can be quite rowdy you know?"

"I've handled the young master for years now, you'd be surprised by what I can and cannot handle."

"...Whatever, just stay out of my way." Instead of feeling offended Nelo chuckled.

"That's not the first time I heard that. The compatibility summoning really did work, and you two have a lot in common. Even more than you thought, so I vouch."

His words earned him a raised eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Something that is not my place to say. I highly encourage however that you find it out yourself, perhaps it'll benefit the two of you...

Ah and it seems that he's almost done."

Nero dodged a simultaneous vertical lariat by jumping into the small space between the two golems' arms, destroying one of the two by firing Blue Rose at it side. Once landed the half devil switched to his sword and slashed down the last of the stone sentinel.

Now he was disappointed and BORED. These golems and homoculus didn't even come close to mid rank devils, hopefully the servants would prove more of a challenge.

"COME ON! IS THAT ALL YOU GOT!?" Nero shouted at the castle.

"Do I need to remind you that antagonizing the enemy before a fight is simply foolish?"

"Don't listen to him master! Only a coward wouldn't answer a challenge, and it looks like our enemies are one of those!"

"Then I am pleased to prove otherwise, Saber of Red."

Replied a regal voice that rang through the air causing all three to look up reflexively.

Standing on the edge of the castle's wall with splendor and dignity of a king was Lancer of Black. His presence was more than enough to put them on guard, their sixth senses telling them that they are within his striking distance despite the spatial gap in-between.

"To think that a master would not only charge in alone, but also accompany his servant to the front lines. Both your courage and foolishness deserves praise, master of Saber."

"What can I say? I'm not your usual magus. So, are you gonna call your friends or is this going to be a three on one? Either way, it's going to end real~ quick."

"On that, we agree."

"Master." "Young Master." Nelo and Mordred warned almost at once.

Two Servants appeared. One was the Berserker of Black—a girl wielding a giant battle mace—and the other was Saber, sporting a dignified air that screams knighthood even more than Mordred.

"Behold, in all of it's glory, The servants of B-"

Faster than the eye can follow Nero drew Red Queen and fired it at Lancer of black, the bullet racing through the air with impossible speed. Stakes sprouted out of the castle walls at an equally unnatural pace, denying the bullet of its target and protecting the lancer.

"...What is the meaning of this?" The Impaler darkly asked.

"It's not your fault, the three of us just aren't one for chatter that's all." Nero answered, resting Blue Rose on his shoulder before continuing.

"Still when I accepted this job I expect to fight heroes, not a recycled Robot or a discount Dragon.

And I most certainly didn't remember signing up to beat up an old man dressing up like a vampire."

With that Lancer locked his gaze towards the demon hunter, the intensity of his stare was more than enough to destroy any men' psyche.

"Looks like you're finally taking me seriously, not that it's going to make a difference."

Mordred 'put' her helmet back on, her lust for combat directed at her Saber class counterpart. Nelo summoned his unnamed great-sword, his vision altering between the Berserker of Black and one of the towers.

They were outnumbered and most definitely outgunned.

"Quoting a friend of mine I'm standing in for right now. Let's get this party started!"

Yet they are more than assured at their chance of obtaining victory.

XxX

Finally done with chapter two. It's much longer than I anticipated, especially since I have fun writing it.

Also one of the most important matter to be discussed would be how would the DMC casts fare against a servant, status wise Nero can undoubtedly face someone like Mordred or Siegfried but is utterly outmatched when it comes to explosive power.

The same goes for V. Nightmare can most definitely take on a Berserker, but the summoner himself is extremely weak and can be killed by even an assassin like Sasaki Koujiro. Astolfo too is an exception since he rely on his many noble phantasms, and Vlad whose weapon is the spamming quantity of his NP.

So in writing fights I'll compare those two things, physical capability and how much can they unleash on one strike. To further my detail I'll try and draw a graph on my opinion of comparison.

-Sparda The Four Primarchs (S level): can take on super buffed servant like Megalo Herc from FGO

-Eva, Dante, Vergil, (EX level): Can take on world famous servant like King Arthur or Achilles. Their explosive capability is also rather high.

\- Nero Michael (A level): Can take on World class servant but lack the explosive power of a Noble Phantasm.

-Lady, Lucia, Temperance (B level): Can fight servants evenly but heavily relies on tactic. Similar to Archer class and Assassin Class.

-V (no Level): is an exception due to reason stated above.

On another Note this is not the case for their 'Trigger' form, and just like in the game they can only maintain it for so long before it take a toll on them.

That's all for now, hopefully the action scene is up to your taste. Voidwalker77 signing out.

CIAO!


	3. Chapter 3

"Hah!"

With a swing Jeanne destroyed another (Acceptance), the centaur knight turning into golden dust that vanished with the wind.

"Foul Witch!" It's brethren roared, charging at her with enough horsepower to shatter the road beneath its hooves.

Instead of running Ruler braced herself for the attack. She would undoubtedly perish should she take the impact head on, that said however Ruler never had the intention of getting hit.

Countering the initiative she shot herself forward just as the Acceptance was about to leap, striking with a thrust and utilizing her pole-arm's reach to its very limit.

"AGH!"

The tip of her flag buried itself on the centaur's gut, and resulting damage becomes more powerful thanks to the victim's own speed. Just like her previous casualty the (Acceptance's) remains was then swallowed by the world as if it was never there.

The third spheres halted their offensive. They had taken the heretic as a minor threat for she was only human, a grave mistake they were forced to pay with their comrades' lives.

Now there were only four of them left, twice their number biting the dust and falling prey to the Ruler. Grace and Glory is still engaging the false god's spawn, neither side having land any actual blows. Their leader is to locked in combat against the impurity, sparks flying through the air as their swords clashed.

They will receive no assistance. No matter.

"Do not fear for the creator is on our side! We shall rain holy judgement upon these impieties. Let us rally ourselves and enforce HIS words!"

"OOOOHHHH!"

The remaining Acceptances reassemble around the [Accolade]. Forming a vanguard with the latter as a rear-guard. A suicide formation so Jeanne noticed, they would willingly threw their lives for a chance of defeating her.

'They are not angels.'

Was it denial that empowers her to believe such a thing, even if their forms are unlike what she was led to believe their powers should prove otherwise. No, it was because they are here that she knows they are not angels.

The lord have forsaken her, left her to burn at the stake after she was put through countless humiliation and suffering. Why didn't she wished to be saved? Why didn't she wish that god would intervene?

Because god doesn't work that way.

Free will, something that all human possess. She could have ignored the voices and lived a normal life but she didn't, the clueless farm girl who know neither how to read or write decided to go forward knowing what awaits her.

It was her choice and no one else'.

She was simply a girl who did something because she can. She still is.

Never interfering with our decision and allow each and every one of us to forge our own path. The lord shall never arbitrate any mortal concerns and so will his angels, so was the base of her piety.

Though the devil himself also plays a part in granting us that.

Jeanne chuckled, suddenly remembering her partner's thought regarding the origin of free will.

'Now's not the time, though I would love to chat with him more.'

Returning her focus to the enemies in front of her it was Jeanne who took the initiative. As expected they met her charge with their own, becoming an armed stampede of destruction.

She can no longer rely on the advantage of reach, knowing well that they have learned from their comrade's mistake. Dodging is also out of the question, their number making it neigh impossible for her to move out of their way.

'Then I'll just have to do that...'

Just like before she thrust her flag as if it was a Lance, already expecting this the foremost Acceptance prepares to block.

He wasn't the target, directly that is.

The edge of Ruler's flag buried itself to the ground, like a pole jump athlete Ruler let her own motion overtake her body and sent herself rocketing forward leg first. It was what movies revered to as pole vault kick.

"Se~no~!"

Using her victim as a platform Jeanne kicked herself of him to further increase the damage, sending him backwards straight to its superior. They instantly tumbled and kissed the asphalt while the other two Acceptance jumped away to avoid entanglement.

The skyward saint did not waster her chance and threw her flag, the symbol pierced through the two as if it was a spear. Like the other ones she had killed their remains fade away in a blink of an eye.

Two left.

The jump and her strength granted her a breathing room, thanks to her enemies' nature however she could only catch one breath and nothing more.

Moving in sync they galloped at her while constantly altering their placement, displaying their superb calmness in spite of their disadvantage.

Jeanne pondered whether or not to use her sword, even if she slashes one down they would simply utilize the others' death. Recalling the so called ability of the [Empyrean Arms] she opted not to take needless risk.

She'll have to handle both of them at once.

"I feel really bad about this..."

Ruler dug her fingers against the concrete beneath her, putting her B-ranked strength parameter into use she tore a slab of the street and raise it above her head.

She threw it at them.

They were far to agile to be hit by such sloppy attack, but Jeanne succeed in splitting them apart. It won't last long and she knew that, quickly she re-summoned her flag.

Piercing will no longer work and they'll be on the lookout for any strange maneuver.

So she simply have to throw 'technique' away. Ruler jumped up in the air, spinning her flag as if it was a bo-staff. And just like one she slammed it against her foe. It blocked the attack with his own spear, but the difference in strength was where victory lies.

"NGGGAAAAAHHH!"

The angel was crushed under her robustness. one left.

Ruler turned around to find a golden spear inches away from her face. She barely managed to deflect it with her staff and quickly backed away.

With that her victory is assured.

It turned into a battle of blows, though calling it a struggle would be more accurate. Jeanne easily gained the edge and began pushing the angel back, yet it's devotion pushed the angel forward.

Perhaps they are more similar than either of them realized.

One swing later and the battle was settled.

Like glass he shattered. Bits and parts slowly turning into golden dust. He remained unmoved as he 'stared' at Jeanne, and unlike the others he seems to hold no enmity or resentment.

"May the creator...Grace you..."

Jeanne blinked to find him completely disappeared when she opened her eyes. They may pray to the same god but their belief is different. Even so its last act was something that ruler understood.

It simply prayed because it can, perhaps for itself or maybe for her.

Yes, a prayer is a prayer. No matter who offered it and to whom it is offered.

She turned around and made haste to assist his partner.

XxX

Fate Rubeus Ater

Chapter III: Even Worse

XxX

"Please forgive my rudeness, but I must end this now..."

The reply he received came in the form of an assault, and for once Karna couldn't tell whether it was his declaration that sets them off or that they simply never cared.

Discernment of the poor doesn't work on animal apparently.

For the twentieth time Karna ducked under a burning claw swipe only to have lighting bolt searing towards his head (nostalgic really). Just like the previous nineteens time he swatted it away with his spear, then he dodged a burning claw swipe by jumping away.

'Their teamwork is flawless. No, perhaps it's better to say that 'it' is working perfectly.'

Akin to two gears that turns one another perpetually becoming one perfect mechanism viewing the virtues [Grace and Glory] as two separate beings is nothing short of a mistake.

The flame clad Grace that strikes aggressively, not only is every blow fatal thanks to its strength it also posses a large area via its explosive flame.

Glory on the other hand focused more more and ranged attack and kept its distance, constituting weak lightning that is as fast as the real thing.

The two perfectly covered the others' weakness, and not even the hero of charity could find an exploitable gap.

That means he simply have to bulldoze through it and get it over with, hence his earlier remark.

"O Agni."

Blazing flames engulfed Lancer's spear, its heat enough to put Grace on guard and sent him backing away. Yet it didn't harm even a single strand of the Lancer's hair.

The skill he had just activated was [Mana Burst = Flame]. A sub species of the [Mana Burst] that infuses weapons with Magical Energy that imparts a flame effect.

In Karna's case, blazing flames become magical energy to dwell in the weapon used. This Skill is usually active and all the weapons that Karna grasps receive this effect.

"Here I come."

Again his enemy let its action speak for itself. Dragging it's claw against the ground Grace mimicked Karna's action and raised the intensity of its flames to the point where the air around it burned.

Whirling itself at Lancer Grace uses its elemental claws to create an inferno of quick twirling slashes, turning into a pillar of fire that scorch whatever it is unfortunate enough to be on its path.

On the other hand Karna strikes with a simple thrust. Although it was nothing more than a straightforward charge its speed and the flames wreathing from his spear turned it into an action of untold destruction.

Two firestorms finally met in a clash that filled the world with light. It was the Sun that trounced over the flames of judgement, Karna piercing through Grace with his spear.

He was drenched in sweat.

As the son of Surya Karna was born with innate resistance to all things that burns, even in his previous life he had never perspirate to this point.

They are even more dangerous than he imagined, and he was about to pay the price for only realizing it now.

Wrathful lightning danced between Glory's fingertips, its intensity unlike what he had faced until now. It knew of its partner's demise beforehand and instead of preventing it opted to use the window Grace have provided for a sure hit.

There was no way to dodge the attack, Lancer's only choice is to receive the full burnt and continue his charge. Killing it with the same manner he had took its partner's live.

Glory slammed both of its claw to the ground sending arcing blue lines of electricity in all directions outwards.

"!" The hero of charity flinched, pain filled his innards as his skins burned.

He didn't slow down one bit.

The spear of Indra skewered the virtue without any resistance. Glory could only coughed out a faint gawk as its body broke into blue sparks. Lancer had won, but the damage he had suffered only spoke of the graveness of this situation.

Things will only get harder from here on, so the battle in front of him showed.

"GRRRAAAAHHH!"

"To think that you'd be affected by your comrades' death. Did you all grew hearts after the last time we met?"

"SILENCE!"

It was a gigantic swing empowered by herculean strength, a single strike enough to tore through the earth and cleave through wind.

It didn't, however, managed to kill a butterfly.

Dodging under the swing Michael flapped his wings and surged forward, his sword tearing through [Valiance's] arm causing golden dust to sprout. He immediately lurched upward to avoid a wide circular slash, the wound he had inflicted earlier already closing.

"Hmph! As expected you can do nothing but fight like an insect!"

"As long as its works I don't care what you call it. I'm not the one bleeding now am I?"

Hovering in front of the enemy with two wings sprouting from his back the hybrid cockily mocked the Cherub.

Up until now their battle had been nothing but stalemate with Michael dodging all of Valiance's attack and the latter not giving the former any chance to strike back. Now the scales are finally tipping.

"I've got first blood, care so see who'll get the next hit?"

"RAAAAAHHH!"

The Valiance attacked with a downward slash. Dodging it was easy especially for someone with his aerial maneuverability, with a flutter Michael stirred to the left.

And was barely able to block the very same attack he failed to dodge.

Sparks ignited as two Empyrean arms grind. At the very last moment the angel changed the angle of its attack with splendid control. Michael's body rattled against the cherub's strength no doubt also suffering internal damage from the shock alone.

Like a swatted fly the hybrid shot through the air. Valiance quickly gave chase not wanting to lose the opening it successfully obtained, and in the midst of its pursuit left itself wide open.

"GAH!"

"Ara, I didn't thought you'd be that easy to fool..."

Thanks to his own quick wit and different in size the Valiance failed to notice that Michael had went limp and successfully dispersed most of the damage. The rest was a matter of timing and finding blind spots, something the hybrid had already memorized from their prior impasse.

"Let them cut through the flesh to break their bones. Though my cuts are once again shallow..."

He delivered a series of high speed slash that traded damage for quantity, slicing through Valiance's tissues and making tears all over its body.

This time it doesn't heal.

"HOW DARE YOU!!!!!"

"He who wield swords must be prepared to be cut. Surely even you knows this."

The Cherub rage was conveyed in its next attack, sending in a slash of a highest quality in spite of its fit of rage.

"Now... Time to get real."

Two more pair of wings sprouted from Michael's back, the once white appendage turning blood red with its increase in numbers. This time he didn't dodge, this time he blocked it.

[CLANG].

Unlike previously the hybrid remained still in his defense, still levitating on the same space despite taking the total intensity of the blow. What makes it even more perplexing is the fact that he did so mid air, meaning that he resisted both the attack and gravity with his own force.

"Let's see if you can keep up."

He disappeared in a flash after declaring so, becoming a red streak that the human eye couldn't hope to follow.

"His overall stats have tripled." So the observing hero of charity concluded. With the display in front of him he decided that Michael was a threat of the same caliber as the Saint with her command seals.

And he is holding back.

'If it comes to him using his full power, then I'd be forced to do the same.'

"With his aide it's even possible to overturn the odd of numbers and win the holy grail, Ruler."

"I have no intention of such Lancer of red."

Jeanne answered as hopped down from the bridge. His previous provocation already forgotten.

"Is that so." One would attempt to argue that she of all people would seek the grail, but the Hero of Charity knows that she had told him the truth and simply leave it at that.

"Rather than the grail I'm more concerned about what the future has in store for all of us."

"On that I agree. It seems that both of us are in over our heads..."

It was Valiance who was pushed to the defensive now. His prominent size serving as a handicap against the smaller and sleeker enemy. With vigor he resists and uses his sword to block as many attacks as he can, yet it can only do so much and continues to receive manifold of burning slashes.

"I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED BY THE LIKES OF YOU!" It claimed in defiance.

"Who says anything about defeating? For us its always kill or be killed. Don't tell me you've also forget about that? Well, since I'm almost done it's probably alright to let it slide..."

Michael landed a considerable distance from his opponent, a thoughtless action considering that he had the angel on the ropes.

"HAH! YOU WILL REGRET TAKING ME LIGHTLY!"

"No, I'm trying to defeat you as fast as I could. Maybe did is more appropriate thought..."

Michael traced the front of his sword with his index, the weapon glowing red in response. Valiance upped its guard instantly, intending to guard the next attack and retaliate with extreme force.

"[IUDICUM]."

It was then that Valiance sword's exploded, followed by his body being swallowed by infernal fire. The Cherub screamed in agony but was incapable of doing anything to put the flame out.

How could he possibly do this much damage without attacking!? No, it's possible that...

"That's right, the slices I made after you hit me the first time around. The rest was keeping you from noticing the lingering curse and damaging your sword."

"...coward!..."

"I'm not the one burning aren't I? Well I suppose letting a dead man have his last words is okay. Though I really had hoped to advertise your puissance to spook those two."

In a last act of defiance the cherub swung its broken sword down, Michael easily avoided it with a sidestep.

"guh..."

"Guess this is it. Thank you for your hard work."

"...Curse... You..."

Like flammable gas Valiance combusted, the flames engulfing him enlarging for a heartbeat before dying down.

"Quite the mouth. The more reserved ones would usually pray." Not that it'd made a difference.

Everyone is entitled to freely use their last breath how they see it fit, whether it is cursing or simply trying to elongate their final moment.

"Looks like it's over."

"For now that is. Does this means that we'll have a cease-fire, Lancer?"

"That is up to my master to decide, not me. Judging from what had happened however, the chance of that are rather high."

Ruler nodded.

At the very least they now know what they are up against and is wise enough to form a temporary alliance.

She's got a feeling that whatever happens next will be beyond her wildest imagination.

(SHANK)

"Eh?"

Warm. The feeling filled her chest and seeps into her throat.

"I pray that you would not think ill of me, O' overseer. But you have exactly what I needed."

Drowsiness washed over her. Jeanne can barely kept her consciousness afloat, struggling not to close her eyelids.

"Your role have come to an early end, sleep."

She cannot... She has to figure out what is it that is wrong with this holy grail war...

"Sleep."

'I'm sorry Michael. I leave the rest and Laeticia to you...'

"Thank you for your cooperation." The assailant softly stated.

Pulling out his sword from the Ruler's back he dropped the sword and quickly jumped backward to avoid being sliced by Lancer's spear.

A clicking sound was heard, and Karna suddenly found himself staring at a barrel of an ornate shotgun.

(BANG)

Despite the range he managed to veered away from the attack at the cost of giving the unknown attacker some distance.

"Impressive. Not even a high rank demon can take it unflinching. You really are something else Hero of Charity."

The man's word only unsettle him further. He was somehow able to crept upon not one but two servant completely unnoticed. Was he the Assassin of black? Sent here with the same purpose as him?

No, the person Karna facing is definitely alive.

"Not even a word or a curse? You truly are too kind for your own good son of Surya, even towards the man who just took your right eye."

Lancer had failed to dodge the attack completely, unknown metal now lodged in his right eye-socket.

It wouldn't heal.

The pain should be unbearable, yet the lancer of red retained his disposition. Because if he doesn't he knew this man will soundly defeat him.

He knew, from the very beginning he knew. It was in one fluid motion, so graceful even Karna was perplexed by it. He retracted his sword, jumped backward, and pulled his firearm before shooting an oncoming servant.

It was combat foresight hundreds of times sharper than the eye of the mind and bordering towards actual pre-cognition.

"Who are you?"

"No one that will soon matters not. By this [Command Seal] I order you: Go as far from this city as possible."

At the same time, Lancer's body gave off light.

Light began enveloping Karna's entire body.

"And another thing, it'd be the best for your interest if the servants of Red and your master kept out off my way... No, it's probably impossible considering what he strives for..."

And just like that Lancer was gone.

The man then ducked, dodging a slash from the scarlet sword in the nick of time. He didn't pulled discharge his gun this time around.

He pulled the pin of a grenade instead.

(BOOM)

Both of them were fast enough to get out of the blast radius. Normally Michael would've done so and continued his pursuit, but instead he found himself face to face against the mysterious man while carrying the sleeping 'Jeanne'.

To think that he had planned this far ahead, knowing that Michael would save his partner instead of attacking.

"You're not a Lumen Sage, although you most definitely dress the part. The mask is a nice touch If I do say so myself."

"Oh? You've figured that out that quickly? If I may ask what gave it away?"

"I can list them all but it'll take a while."

"Such is a shame, and neither of us have the luxury of hour."

"That does seems to be the case. I have no intention of letting you get away, is that what's the [Astral Fragment] for?"

"Your senses is as sharp as your mother's I see." The false sage pulled out a golden crystal from his robe, it looked like something

"The moment I crush this angels will come pouring like moths to a flames. Of course only third and second spheres would answer the call their numbers will undoubtedly be many. Not a problem if the both of you unleash your full power, and that's wheres she comes in."

He gestured towards the unconscious Ruler.

"And with that I shall take my leave. Do your best to stop me, although it'll probably be hard with the little miss there..."

A golden crest appeared above his head, the false sage vanishing in a quick flash.

Michael sighed. "Looks like I've stumbled on something unbelievable. At least I'm definitely getting paid extra."

Transporting the both of them back had been simple enough, the sight that greeted him however will forever irk him.

Someone is sitting in his beloved Scarlet's driver seat, and as weird as it sounds knowing the offender only made the felony even more heinous.

It was girl his age dressing in an rouge-ish RPG fashion. She gave off the smell of fresh wind and radiates with nimbleness, her entire head covered sans her emerald orb thanks to her hood and health-mask.

She get out of the car and with spring in her step approached the two. A fringe of green hair with golden ends falling out of her hood.

"Oi~ Michael. I almost didn't see you there." So greeted with a tone of laziness.

"Hear is more like it. You didn't even bother to move scarlet to the side of the road before turning the radio on?"

He can hear the music all the way over here.

"At the risk of scratching your car?"

"SHE'S NOT A CAR! SCARLET IS A PART OF THE FAMILY!!"

The following silence lasted for twenty full second.

"...Yeah exactly."

"A valid point. So where were you when shits hit the fan?" The swordsman asked with an edge.

"Protecting your car and securing the perimeter. Shot down some funny looking bird, they only have one eye and are made out of stone~ super weird right~?

"...Right. And our not so friendly neighbourhood sage?"

She shrugged her shoulder. "Must have went into [Purgatorio] before I even get here."

"Do tell when did you get here?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

"...Well shit."

"Language~" She lazily scolded. "Did you really think that he stayed in there for that long though? That's super unhealthy~"

"If you consider getting shredded into a thousand pieces unhealthy..."

"It definitely is thought."

Although both are frequently used as combat grounds for 'outsiders' both [Purgatorio] and [Limbo] are essentially space of chaos the difference being the former is located between Earth and Paradiso; and the latter betwixt Hell and Earth.

Unless one stabilize a certain amount of area before entering (though most spells do exactly that while transporting the user) he or she can kiss their existence goodbye, and even then said space would eventually collapse on itself.

Permanent space is only something the highest rank of demons or angels can make. The ones who made such usually never abandon their fortress, and the false sage's action runs on the opposite direction to that mindset.

It's most likely that he went to [Purgatorio] first and only created the smallest of area (though considering the timeline that itself would take a ridiculous amount of mana), so when Michael opened a portal of his own the resulting volume overlaps with the already established room like a stain on the floor being covered by a rug.

Even so he was skilled enough to sneaks past two heroic spirits unnoticed, or was he simply lucky?

"Well however he did it, he got what he wanted."

"And that's?"

"Ruler's command seals, all of them."

"...Isn't that like, super bad?"

"Yes, super bad."

"Oh~ so~ what are we going to do now? And what about the girl?"

"For now, I'm gonna do what my friend over here is doing. Getting some shut eyes."

"Sounds good, where are we staying?"

"We, and by we I mean me and my partner, are going to stay in a place I already set up (we're sleeping in separate rooms). While you are going to sweep the city for anything Lumen related."

"Eh~? that's not fair~!"

"Unless you have an idea on how to keep the two faction at full power and stir them against 'outside' threat instead of one another..." Michael replied as he sets the sleeping Laeticia on the front passenger seat. "I suggest you get going."

"Fine~, you better pay me extra though~"

"All of us are getting paid handsomely if things are as bad as I thought. Right now I'm just glad that the black faction didn't but in." Turning the keys Scarlet roared to live, and Michael found his mood slightly elevated.

"Oh, you have your old friend 'righty' to thank for that. When was the last time you and him met? It was Redgrave city wasn't it? When that tree popped out of nowhere."

He was just about to drive away only to stop when he heard that.

"He's here? On a job?"

"Actually, he's a master of Red. Pretty sure he summoned Saber and almost steamrolled the black faction."

"...Good night Temperance, hopefully I'll forget about what you said by tomorrow morning."

"Only if you can somehow get drunk on tea."

"I'll try my best." He slammed the pedal and speeds away, leaving his 'sister' alone in the middle of the night.

"Well might as well get to work~" The abandoned girl dejectedly uttered.

The bracelet she wear suddenly expanded, turning into a floating metallic circle with two blades like branch sprouting from opposite ends.

"At least the wind is nice."

She disappeared in a gust of wind, becoming one with the chill of the night.

XxX

Voidwalker77 here. I'm guessing all of you notice that this chapter is only half in length compared to the first one, that's because I'm actually here with a question.

Would you like me to release chapter this long at a faster speed, or would you like me to continuously write like the previous chapter at a slower rate.

Please comment for an answer and I will try to met your expectation.

Back to the story. BET YOU DIDN'T SEE THAT ONE COMING! I've already figured out the overall plot for this storyline though all I've probably did is tweak a few things here and there, so... just enjoy the ride!

The sword of Michael is based on the weapon of the same name from granblue fantasy, while his armor is based on the Holy Saber class of the same game in case any of you were wondering. Just google it and you'll find the picture.

As for the entire Jeanne being a fraud saint thing, if you play and read the Bayonetta lore enough you'd notice that the angels of Paradiso isn't exactly benevolent, heck some citation even says that they only 'safeguard' humanity so they can use them so...

I'll give an explanation on a later chapter. If you decide that its okay for me to release individual chapters this long then the next one would be how Nero almost destroyed the black faction (with effort and luck), and an intermission after that.

That's all from me Voidwalker77 signing out. CIAO!


	4. Chapter 4

"UWAAAAH!"

"I do understand your plight, but that does not give you the right to say such thing. It's unbefitting for a lady such as yourself..."

"UUUAAAAA!"

"My goodness, Girl! You kiss your mother with that mouth!?"

"NUUUUAAAA!"

"Oh, right. Frankenstein, my apologies..."

"GUUUAAAAHH!"

Berserker class. One of the four cavalry classes and one famed for being a double edged sword. Trading their consciousness and sanity for a large power boost, it's a perfect class for those who do not wish for 'communication' between master and servant.

But Nelo understood the poor gal in front of him, after all madness is the language of demons. And he must admit, her vocabulary is much more extensive and 'colorful' compared to the regular demons at their 'level'

"Still! It is very rude and you shouldn't say that!"

"AAAAAAA!"

"I'll shut up when you wash your mouth with soap! In fact! I request a meeting with your master this instant! Someone who let you ran your mouth like that without reprimanding you deserves a spanking of his or her own!"

The battle of Berserker of Black and Nelo Angelo is a slow and heavy one. Each of their attack are sluggish and simple, and it would make any who sees the exchange doubt their capability.

Until they sees what marks every attack makes that is.

"HMPH!" Nelo charges forward with a sloppy upward swipe, the attack missing its mark and sending a massive guts of wind.

"NUWAH!" Berserker retaliated with a swing of her mace. The attack sent her enemy skidding backwards, but to her already bubbling frustration he had once again successfully guarded against it by using his sword as a shield.

"Uuu--"

"Hold your tongue girl! Whether or not I decide to fight seriously is up to me alone! And I've played enough poker to not throw all of my cards on the open so easily."

Again the demon butler's gaze shifted towards one of the castle's towers.

"Well enough of that, shall we continue?" Nelo said as he fixed his stance.

The action further aggravates the Berserker of black who angrily roared in response. Finally pushed past her edge the false human charged at the demon knight while swinging her mace erratically.

Nelo sighed. "So much for being a gentleman." With that he swung his sword to meet the charge.

XxX

Fate Rubeus Ater

Chapter IV: The Real Reason

XxX

Steel versus steel. Gold versus Silver. Sword versus Sword.

It was an impossible skirmish that does not belong in this age, a single combat where both warriors are armed with steel blade and nothing more. were they barbarians left behind by time, only existing to be mocked by the bearers of guns?

No, that would be all the more impossible.

"...Here I come, Saber of Black!"

Then, gold answered the call of silver.

"...Come, Rot."

In an instant, the Saber of Red leapt forth with a lion-like roar. The knight's stomp shook the earth, and the speed of the charge pierced the sound barrier. This jump was possible due to a skill Saber of Red possessed, called [Prana Burst]. By instantaneously releasing the magic power carried by the arms or in the body, the knight could rush forward with a momentum like that of a bullet's, and swing the over-sized weapon with ease.

With such speed, such destructive power, even the strongest land weapon of modern war, the main battle tank, would be pulverized. —However, while the leaping knight was one not of the ordinary, its opponent was also an existence who had reached the realm of demons.

With a fierce war-cry reminiscent of a massive dragon, Saber of Black took several steps forward with his golden greatsword in hand. Not hesitating in the slightest at the enemy charging towards him at incredible speeds, the sword he held aloft was swung down.

If one were to call the silver onslaught a bullet, then what came to intercept it was a high-speed golden guillotine. Steel clashed with steel, and the destruction wrought upon their surrounding by the impact was almost surreal.

"Ha! That was weak, Black!"

"Unh-!"

Steel masses and fighting spirits clashed. Sparks flew. There was no pity, no hatred, only powerful wills who would deny the existence of the other, as well as the whirl of utter joy found in facing a powerful enemy. Ever since the start of this battle, their swords had already crossed ten times. Unconsciously, Saber of Red's cheeks drew into a grin.

Red electricity surged throughout the smaller Saber's body, and in a display that denies the law of physics she began to push the larger swordsman back. At first glance, it was clear that the Saber of Black held the advantage in terms of physique. The difference between him and the Saber of Red was practically that between a man and a child.

However, it was in fact the golden knight who was being overpowered—the silver knight was overpowering him.

The reason was, as before, the [Prana Burst] skill. This time, the silver knight was not using magic power to charge forward, but to augment physical strength. Right now, Saber of Red was like a shell with its fuse lit and about to be fired.

"I'm not done yet!"

Saber of Red stepped forward, its foot crushing down into the ground, and

gave a spirited roar.

Unable to hold on, Saber of Black was blown backwards, but as expected of a hero, he simply leapt back instead of rolling around clumsily. His knees did not give out, and his expression did not change.

Then Saber of Red appeared in front of him once more.

"RAH!"

He managed to block the sudden attack, but again he lost the contest of strength and was sent flying. In less than a breath he fixed himself up and regained his footing.

And again Silver filled his vision.

This time it was a kick to his abdomen, its power enough to shatter boulders and topple castle walls. He was bludgeoned to the air once more.

For five more times Siegfried was tossed and turned like a ball, and each time he would reattain his equilibrium his Red faction's counterpart would zoom in an continue her never ending assault.

By the seventh time this happened, and on this occasion he was hit with a headbutt, he was unable to balance his foundation on time and finally hit the dirt.

With how fast he was going and how mighty was Mordred's strike he shouldn't be able to get back up.

He did just that. With the same expression he had worn during the entirety of their exchange he stood on his two feet, both arms still gripping his golden sword tightly. He had only suffered minor scratches.

Saber of Red thrust her sword out. Even without a face to see, one could tell that the low chuckle emanating from the helmet was dripping with scorn.

"And you call yourself 'Saber', one who ought to be the greatest amongst all Servants? What a disappointment. Guess both my master and I outclass you in every way!"

The secret behind Saber of Red's apparent dominance was because of her [Prana Burst] skill, the same skill that Saber of Black lacked. Even so Siegfried was not a weakling either.

He had suffered not only one but more than a dozens consecutive onslaught that would undoubtedly crushes even a first class servant. If one were to describe Mordred as an 'unstoppable force' then he must certainly be an 'immovable object'.

The reason behind his survival lies within his legend, his Noble Phantasm.

"Gotta say, that's quite the cheat like ability you got there!"

Blood armor of Fafnir. After triumphing over the evil dragon the hero of Niblehung bathed himself with the dead dragon's fresh blood, granting him invulnerability to any weapons known to man.

As his Noble Phantasm the ability acted as an 'armor' that protect his body and nullify all attack bellow the B rank. As Mordred had perfectly summed up in her words it really is an unsportsmanlike advantage.

"Though if it weren't for that I'd probably would have killed you ages ago!"

Prana Burst, it is because of that skill the battle became one-sided. Even so the twist lies not on the skill itself but how it is utilized. Mordred is constantly augmenting her strength and further supplementing her charge at the same time, in other words she was burning through an ungodly amount of mana with every passing second.

Unlike her foe Saber does not have a defensive Noble Phantasm or any of the sort. Although she seemingly have the upper hand and is putting up a farce she has no choice but to relentlessly attack, otherwise it'll turn into a battle of attrition where she'll be put at an disadvantage.

She has no choice but to continue attacking, and that had been her plan all along.

Unless she uses the same method of power reserves then the master empowering her must be a monster.

The fact that said master is currently clashing with their Lancer already told him that much.

"Don't get distracted now, Saber of Black! You better grit your teeth cause I'm just getting started!"

The ground under her cracked under her lightning imbued sole. She's about to charge again. Nothing short of his undivided focus will cut it, lest he'll fall victim to the wild knight and meet his end right here.

Saber of Red haven't unleashed her Noble Phantasm, and if it's ranks is above B receiving it head on will spell his defeat and demise.

He can't bother himself with anything else besides protecting his own hide, even if his opponent's master is still fighting their Lancer equally.

XxX

"You know I'm starting to think that you're a one trick phony! Haven't you thought of I don't know? Trying literally anything else beside stakes!?"

"Not much of a talker huh? Or is your wording as bad as your creativity?"

"Oh, come on now! This thing's only fun if it pisses you off Drac!"

And you're doing an exceptional job at that, was what Lancer thought.

Ten full minutes have past since the beginning of their clash. Said start signified by the master scaling the castle of Millenia's wall by running while firing his gun (capable of actually hurting him). After that he switched to his sword and sent a couple of slashes, all blocked by Lancer's stakes at the cost of being broken.

No matter how much he hated (and how much he wanted to spill out) his guts the display was more than enough to made the prince wary of him. So he switched to a more subdued long term stratagem of tiring the master by drawing out the battle.

There's no doubt that the Master of Saber's feats were the result of a high class body enchantment, that and how prodigal their Saber is it's only a matter of time before he eventually ran out of air.

Even he has his limits. The teen shooting in front of him, on the other hand, barely even sweat.

After destroying an upper section of the castle (courtesy of Nero's Double Down) the battle had moved from atop of the castle and down to earth. Countless Glyph appeared and disappeared under the hunter's feet as he continued his airborne hike.

To Vlad's ire he was smart enough to know how grounded his noble phantasm is. The hunter hadn't touched down ever since his first jump and had been relentlessly summoning circles as platform to keep himself 'flying'.

He is still within Lancer's reach however, as the Impaler simply had to 'stack' his stake on one another to increase it's height. The process of fusing his stakes however took a fraction of a second and slows down the overall speed of his attack.

It wasn't quick enough.

Practically speaking his attacks only went from 'in the blink of an eye' into 'less than a second', but the hunter's reaction speed made it apparent that he could dodge them either way.

Lancer glanced at the dueling Sabers, then at the rumbling Berserker. Neither have made any significant advances and are instead being pushed back.

It's only the opening act, he reminded himself. For all he knows all of this could be an elaborate trap to make them reveal their hand. The red faction's Rider laying low ready to whisk the master and servant pair away at any time.

Rider and Archer are both on standby, since they were only facing one servant Lancer figured that he can save on manpower all the while maintaining secrecy.

Forgoing that decision means he'd be risking losing the information warfare, but if they can take out or overwhelm Saber of Red before she can unleashes her Noble Phantasm...

It must be a swift and decisive strike, and they must rely purely on their numbers while keeping usage of Noble phantasm to a minimum. If all goes accordingly capture might even be possible...

Seemingly sensing the change in Lancer's mind Nero rocketed himself upwards. He repeated his action two more times before stopping, standing on the last glyph he summoned.

A reverse of their initial confrontation it was the hunter who knows looks down on his foe.

"What's with the nasty look? I haven't even bust out the 'V-word' yet."

"...Your bravado astounds me..."

Nero smirked. "That it? Your really think you got this in the bag because you got Horse-ass#1 creeping from that tower over there and Horse-ass#2 on standby?"

Lancer's composure almost broke at that instant.

"Pro tip about hiding horses, you can't. They shit like every five minutes or something. And besides, you're not the only one here with backup..."

The hunter then slammed the air behind him with his right hand, the night sky shattering and revealing a sight never should be seen.

Red instead of black with disgusting odour that stung from even this distance, it looked like someone had try to emulate the scenery of the world with blood and tar. As repulsive as it is lethal, Nero had just opened a gate to Limbo. The last border between [Hell] and [Earth].

"Don't worry, I'm not pulling you in. In fact, it's the other way around..."

XxX

'Ah. Looks like it's time. Saber keep with what you're doing and don't worry about the co-"

"URUSAI!" she shouted mentally and out loud as a reply. Not giving Saber of Black any room and pushing on with her merciless melee.

'Not the first time I heard that...'

"Truly sorry girl, but our dance must come to an END!" Emphasis on his last word Nelo mustered all of his strength and with a mighty push staggered the enemy Berserker backwards.

With another slash he sent her further away, gaining a considerable distance and a breathing room.

"UUUU!"

"You were the one asking me not to hold back girl. Well now you're getting what you've asked for... and then some..."

The demon butler jabbed his sword to the ground and spread his arms, grabbing the space behind him and causing it to crumple.

"Now it's time for the curtain call!"

With his fingers Nelo ripped apart the night behind him revealing a sight that halted every single viewers dead on their tracks (Mordred only paused for a second before sucker punching the dumbfounded Saber of Black).

A place for all things evil, the very alliteration of an evil world. The last curtain between this world and its perversion have been lifted, [Limbo] is now for all to see.

Shattering sound came from above and causing all to look up instinctively, although none of them can see it directly they can guess that the enemy's Master had just done what his servant did.

A white streak shot out of the crack above. From bellow it looked like a large white fish though considering the speed of its flight a missile would be more accurate. The thing then corrected itself mid-air, 'standing' upright before revealing its true form.

Spreading its six wings the white demon floats in the sky. Its body is similar to that of a mermaid, with a humanoid top-half and a more fish-like bottom half.

Two wings are held over its head, two are stretched out to the side and the last two cover its body. Its head is made up of a human like lower half and an upper half that is made from several finger like appendages that are wrapped together.

Things are considerably worse down bellow.

Moving in numbers and unison four shield bearing demons crept out of the large hole. A humanoid demons in black armor with blue ornaments on it as well as blue cape on their back, placing themselves on Nelo Angelo's flank it was as of an order of evil and vile knights have descended.

The last demon didn't come upright, that's because the portal was not big enough for its use. Grabbing the upper edge of the crack with its gigantic fingers it proceeds to pull it upwards and forcefully enlarge the hole's size.

Forcing its way out not even the newly stretched crack can accommodate its full size. With four eyes and even more adoring his stomach, it was an ape like demon with horns sprouting from its head.

On its abdomen lower section was a jaw like structure that let out a faint orange glow, all who sees knows that it serves the same purpose as any other mouth. Opening said lower muzzle murderous heat came out of its stomach, gastric acid replaced with actual Lava.

"This fellow over here is Goliath. A demon me and the young master have the privilege of taking down quite sometime ago."

That brought all eyes towards the demon butler.

"I have your attention (sans Saber of course), quoting my young master do pleas 'pay attention cause I'm not gonna bother saying it a second time'.

What we're about to engage in, is a not so pleasant for your side, game of keep away. Goliath over here, as I'm sure all of you already notice, has the capability of discharging an extreme concentration of Hellfire from its stomach.

In other words it spews laser from its belly. Enough to destroy, I assume, half of the estate in front of us.

On the other hand our Artemis up there, sharing the same origin as Goliath, is less volatile in firepower but more gifted in terms of range and precision. Sniping seven targets at once wouldn't be much of a challenge for the fair lady up..."

An arrow was fired in response to the subtle challenge, appearing as a yellow star to the naked eyes of many.

Artemis curled her wing and returned to her streamline form, dodging the first and following shots coming from the Archer who just entered the fray.

"Forcing her on the move would certainly slows down the charge to perform that attack. But reckoning the longest distance it'll take about three minutes or so...

Now then girl, we've present you with everything we got..."

Nelo grabbed his sword and lifted it above his head with two hands. Blue electricity surged through the unnamed broadsword, the energy resonating with the four lesser demons.

"Pardon my rudeness but I'd rather you not show yours. You can however, find pride to have forced the hand of this generation's greatest demon Hunter."

XxX

"AH MOU! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST STAND STILL!"

The fact that he of all people was panicking shows how bad of a shit hole they are in.

Rider is known in his legend for being eternally optimistic and completely lacking in sense, and he can be called "curiosity in human form."

As a Servant more concerned with the current prospect of a second life over all else, he is one who will, with or without permission from his Master, instantly leave when not in conflict to indulge in the pleasures of the world.

The only reason he hadn't done so being his dependence on his not so pleasant and currently targeted master...

'What are you doing Rider!? Hurry up and take that thing down!'

"CAN'T YOU SEE THAT I'M TRYING! IT'S JUST TOO SLIPPERY!"

A minute have passed since the beginning of the ultimatum. Rider had been scrambled right after along with the order of disposing the flying threat with his trusty mount.

His [Hippogriff] made pursuit of the demon extremely easy, but killing it is another matter entirely.

"IT'S LIKE TRYING TO KILL A SNAKE WITH A LANCE!"

Artemis is definitely slower than the monstrous beast, but it's flexibility was leagues above the Rider's beloved mount. Astolfo had tried everything from stabbing it with his [Trap of Argalia] or just plain ramming his steed since the impact would knock it out of the sky.

But the demon avoided all of Rider's attack. It did so once by bending its own body to an unnatural rate, another by impossibly stopping it's flight and letting the Rider wheezed by, and another by changing direction mid flight while defying every aerodynamic laws known to man.

To make things worse it was also capable of blocking Archer's attack.

Another streak of Yellow whistled pass the Rider, and for a moment it seemed that the arrow will make its mark. A flower like flying object intercepted the attack, blocking the arrow at the cost of its existence.

Two other took it place, no doubt being the demons

'Stop complaining and do it! There's only a minute and a half left!'

"I KNOW! I KNOW! AT THIS RATE I MIGHT HAVE TO USE [ LA BLACK LUNA]!"

'I don't care about the cost! Just hurry up and do it!'

"ALRIGHT! SHEESH! Honestly, this war isn't fun at all..."

A hunting horn granted to Astolfo by the good witch Logistilla of Avalon to drive away a large flock of Harpies, La Black Luna can be called the most extreme of his numerous Noble Phantasm.

It is kept in a small size that can be hung from the belt on his hip, morphing to a complexly designed trombone-like instrument that encircled his entire frame.

It emits a magical sound similar in nature to the roar of a dragon, the cry of a giant bird, and the neighing of a divine horse, slamming targets within range with the force of an explosion of sound.

Those with less "HP" than the damage caused will instantly become dust that scatters away in the cardinal directions, never could he have foreseen that he'd ever use it to take down only a single enemy.

"Here we go! [La Black Luna: Magic Flute That-]!"

The hunted demon suddenly swerved and changed direction, zooming towards the Rider instead of away. In uruffled its wings and spread them wide, the spots on each pennon glowing eerie purple.

Astolfo was no genius, in fact he was an idiot. An idiot who knows that he probably wont survive a head on blast with this attack.

There wasn't enough time to swerve away. He was so engrossed in keeping it within his horn's range and not even once he had bothered himself with the scenario of the counter attack.

He had been foolish, even more than he usually is really.

An arrow pierced the illuminating corruption, tearing straight through the demon as if it was made of paper.

Artemis exploded, creating a purple ball of light forming and illuminating the sky. It swallowed the Rider and his mount whole.

"We were to naive..." was all Archer of Black could say.

With that thought the wise sage coughed blood as he plummeted from the sky to the grounds bellow, Nelo's nameless broadsword lodged in his lower midriff.

[Outer Demons]. Creature of the infernal who live and thrives on senseless violence. They loved destruction so much they'd pay with their own live for a suicide attack without a second thought. Chiron only heard very little of them in his past life, a puerile rumour that Tartarus wasn't the deepest layer of Hades.

Looks like they were not above sacrificing their comrade to make an opening.

It was a ingenious plan so Archer admitted, using Rider as a bait to lure him in. Artemis was flying a direction quite a distance from the castle, during the last attack Chiron was forced to jump forward so that his arrow will make it in time.

He fired three at once, two for the bits and one for the target, all three made its mark but in the end none of it mattered.

Archer had fallen for their trap.

The demon serving the enemy master had waited for that exact moment, stalling Berserker of Black with disposable soldier while Nelo poured all of his attention towards Archer of Black.

At the same time Chiron jumped he threw his nameless broadsword, just like the sage he knew how fast his projectile is to make 'the target hit the arrow'. Yet the Archer didn't die, positioning his body so that his spirit core wouldn't be destroyed.

He was however unable to continue fighting due to the excessive damage. And that might as well spell their defeat.

"Here I thought my aim was getting rusty. Taking into consideration who I managed to hit incapacitating him is quite the achievement no?"

Frankenstein roared. With new-found rage she smashed through the last of the Scudo angelo, dashing at the demon butler with her mace at the ready.

The Archer was a nice person, so Berserker believed. The Rider too, and they were her friends. She won't forgive him! She'll kill him! She'll beat him to a pulp!

Just like in the case of Archer there wasn't enough time for Nelo to guard or dodge, through sheer luck in timing and her own mettle Frankenstein defeated all of the dark knight soldier and acquired 'the perfect strike-.

Steel boots dug into the Berserker's side, ripping her muscle and clattering her nonexistent organs. The blow sent the wailing dead rolling on the ground, no doubt inflicting enough damage to put her out of combat.

"Made it in the nick of time Saber, perhaps you have more penchant for the dramatic more than you let on."

"Shut up! You're the one who called me to save your ass all of the sudden! To make it worse you made me turn my back during a fight! Do you have any idea how shameful that is!"

"Well you're the one who agreed to it. Besides, this way you don't have to worry about others butting in into your duel. And here comes the your contender."

Resting Clarent on her shoulder she turned to the direction Nelo pointed. True to the demon butler's word she was greeted by the familiar silhouette of Saber of Black, the same somber expression he had worn during the course of their fight still there.

Siegfried was slower than Mordred, a fact that anyone who saw their exchange should already know. When the Ultimatum was issued Siegfried was tasked with keeping the enemy Saber at bay while the rest of the Black faction handle the demons.

During their heated combat she suddenly disengage, using her superior speed to leave the dragon slayer behind before rescuing her ally and laying waste to their Berserker.

Judging from her combative assault Saber of Red wasn't someone who'd turn her back on an enemy in the middle of a fight. Was he a fool for believing that his opponent was such a person and falling for her trap?

"Heh. You look pretty calm for someone outnumbered."

"But you don't need to worry, as payment for me fleeing earlier none of my lackeys will intervene in our fight! You should be grateful to my master for extending your puny existence even just for a bit!"

Siegfried remained silent as per his Master's command, but his inner turmoil was a large one. His eyes constantly darted to the two enemy in front of him and the demon who stood motionless behind them.

It was still 'charging' from the looks of it, and although the masters of black is relatively out of harms way losing half of their stronghold would undoubtedly put them in a disadvantage for the remainder of the war. Maybe he can pull the maneuver the enemy Saber have pulled...

"Well then you two can have your fun, I'll just stand here and make sure that nobody would bother our big friend over here..."

Nelo summoned his weapons as he finished his sentence.

"Whatever! I've gone through all this trouble to make sure nobody would get in my way, and I'm doing you a favour to put you not give you a handicap Saber of Black! You better take our fight seriously! Well I'm still gonna win either way!"

That's bad, attacking Goliath would mean nullifying Saber's condition, and from what happened with Rider that would mean facing all three of them at once.

His instinct told him that the fire in the Demon's stomach would burn his skin and leave no bones behind.

"Done with your preparation yet or are you just going to stand there and get blown away!?"

He silently complied and brandished Balmung, resuming his stance and preparing to anticipate Saber's next attack.

The situation seemed hopeless, there's no way he'd be able to defeat Saber of Red in time (though the chance of him defeating her was 50:50 at best). However if he were to use 'it' now...

No, even if his master is adamant with him unleashing his sword's [True Name] doing so under the risk of enemy surveillance and against only one servant is simply foolish. Besides there were the chance of Saber of Red countering with her own, and the scenario where hers prove to be stronger than his.

'What is it that I can do?' Never have the legendary Dragon Slayer felt so helpless, to be in a situation where no matter what he do he will still lose...

'No there's only one thing to do, one thing I can do.'

Prana swirled around Saber of Black, shocking the Nelo and Mordred. He wasn't like this before, right before their eyes what was once an impenetrable 'fortress' had morphed into a 'primeval beast' that mows down everything on its path.

Saber of Black intend to go on the offensive.

"Here I come, Rot."

Under her helmet Saber grinned. "That's what I wanted! Come! Saber of Black."

Once again silver and gold clashed.

XxX

'Holy crap it actually worked.'

Nero had came here with 12% of a plan that can barely be called a concept, and he successfully took down three servant in one sweep. Well, it was Mordred and Nelo that did most of the work but he still deserves 1/2 of the credit for coming up with the whole plan in the first place.

The gears in his head started turning when he came face to face with Lancer of Black. Nero can take two or three servants at once, that's a fact. And the impaler was someone with an equal worth of just that.

He tried not to show it, but he's been taking the fight very seriously.

Him provoking Lancer was also a tactical decision (which he would still do even if it didn't held any merit), for it resulted in him wanting to kill Nero personally while keeping the other servants off his back.

So why didn't he lay waste on him yet? Nero certainly has the capability to do so, even more if he go 'all out'. But doing so would leave him to fight four servant AND to power one on a depleted tank.

He's a daredevil, not suicidal. And he knows just where the line between the two is written.

Ergo he tone it down a notch, focusing on hit and run tactic while keeping Lancer's attention on him and him only. It was, however, only a matter of time before the prince of Walachia noticed this and unleashed the full force of the black faction.

It was then that he remembered his mentor's word.

'Never focus on what the enemy have and you don't have, the key to victory lies the other way around.'

What he have and they don't was instantaneous access to [Limbo] and his stash. Nero had prepared shit tons of Red and Green orb all well as a Jackshit amount of all variation of devil stars there. Taking a look at Saber's prana consumption he had made the right call.

He didn't have a getaway plan in case things went south (he's not 'that kind of guy' after all), thanks to Limbo he now have one and first aid. With the last resort sorted out all he needed now was a plan, it was thanks to Saber's word that everything came together.

They didn't have a kickass master like him, and Nero knows that he's a rarity amongst rarity.

So voila. Nelo smoothed out everything else using a 'mirage version' of the Goliath and Artemis they've slain sometime ago, the Black faction not being able to tell the difference from the real thing and falling for their bluff.

That's how they managed to go from being outnumbered to the verge of victory. As for his share of the load...

"You really got nothing else besides sticks don't you!?"

"Silence!"

In the eleventh minute of their clash the battle finally moved down back to earth. Yet the battle remained afloat in spite of the advantage the Lancer supposedly hold, the reason for that being Nero's bag of tricks.

A pair of ethereal wings that doubles as arms. When not keeping their owner up in the air they act as protective limbs that smashes and tear any stakes that attempt to harm Nero.

The hunter himself was even more impressive. With agility and spatial perception that most definitely exceeded human limits he destroyed as many stakes as he can with one strike, creating himself an opening all the while preparing room for his next movement. Not even a for a breath did he remained in the same place.

His erratic pattern also deserve praise, it was something that could only be obtained by synthesizing outstanding dynamic vision, peerless agility, and top of the line spatial awareness. If Lancer didn't know any batter he'd say he was fighting a human sized phantasmal beast, no he really was.

This boy is not a human. He already knew that from the very beginning.

But he hadn't thought that he'd be this strong.

Vlad clicked his tongue, things have taken turn for the worst. Already were they three servant down and although one of the nuisance have been taken care of they are, by no means, are out of the woods.

The other demon, the one capable of demolishing half of his stronghold. Should it be allowed to unleash the havoc it is said capable of the Black Faction may meet their end the very next minute.

Lancer's prana consumption was almost on par with Saber of Red, and unlike hers Vlad's master was undoubtedly human. By using many of the homonculus provided by Saber of Black's master the Black Faction empowered all of their Servants. A power plant like structure located within the lower levels of their castle.

If the demon really is capable of compromising their castle to that extent...

Saber is still occupied by his Red counterpart, although he is no longer being pushed around their even clash speaks of how little progress the Dragon Slayer have made.

Distance is not a problem for Lancer, he need only to will it and the so called Goliath will be riddled with holes. However...

"You're wide open!"

"Don't get cocky brat!"

With the spear he himself wield Vlad parried Nero's slash, but his counter lacked finesse and almost cost him his equilibrium. The hunter would've finished it with a second strike...

Stakes exploded from the earth from all direction and pierced the spot where he once stood. Nero resumed his sprint, becoming a purple blur while Lancer continues to summon his stakes in a futile assault.

Vlad the Impaler was not a warrior, even after being summoned in his homeland and receiving boost in statistic his weapon handling skill remained mediocre at best.

As a warrior he was no match for the devil hunter.

Lancer has had enough.

"This ends now!"

"Couldn't agree more!" Nero responded with a smirk.

The hunter rocketed upward with a flap of his wings, avoiding the stakes sent after him. A single hypothesis Nero came up with, that Lancer's Noble phantasm lacked significant anti air property because the stakes need earth to manifest.

All he need to do is to attack the eye of the storm

Placing himself perfectly right above Lancer Nero performed a nose dive, delivering a spinning slash with a fully exceeded Red Queen while enhancing it with his own demonic power.

The result was a maelstorm of fire. One intense enough to destroy Lancer of Black.

Yet, he smiled. It was an extremely violent smile charged full of anger and fury, hatred and killing intent.

"It seems that you were the one who underestimated me..."

Abruptly the attack was halted. The flame and died down and his wings dissipated. Within Nero's body, something was swelling up with violent force. Hard,

sharp, repulsively cold.

'Stakes stabbed into the enemy themselves' that is Vlad III's Noble Phantasm. As long as the target is within Lancer's territory, no matter how much one fortify their body, it is a fact that they have received an attack from the Impaler.

The true and deadliest nature of [Kaziklu Bey: Lord of Execution]. It was an ability almost on par to the reverse of cause and effect.

"YOUNG MASTER!" The butler demon shrieked.

The next second stakes pierced the Goliath, the demon writhing in pain before vanishing into dust. Next was a wall of stake separating the two Saber, followed by another swarm that forces Mordred to retreat.

"You've done well to push us this far. I shall remember you, hunter of the unknown..."

"I'd rather you not."

Six bullet were fired from above, it was only thanks to the answer that Lancer managed to react on time. Four were blocked by stakes but he was forced to

Looking up he was greeted by the sight of the un-impaled demon Nero who looked mildly annoyed. The smoking Blue Rose on his left hand proving that it was him who discharged the bullet.

Confusion. Although the emotion almost completely overwhelm the Lancer he ignored it and instantly retaliated. Again he out his Noble Phantasm into use. This time, this time he'll turn him into mince meat.

Kaziklu Bey is activated, blood splattered the ground.

"What...?"

It was Lancer's.

"NGGGH!?"

The Impaler writhed in anguish. What is this!? What's going on!? It was as his he was being crushed from all direction...! No! It was his spirit core! Akin to being coiled by a snake it's being crushed!

Nero landed unscratched, glancing lazily as Lancer cough blood as if it was natural. Since it was his doing after all it's only normal to do so.

"How...!?" Lancer demanded for answers, unable to recover or stop the damage despite still receiving Prana.

"Don't look at me. You're the one who tried to curse a demon, the way I see it you reap what you sow."

Curses, the concept of inflicting misfortune or even wound others without lifting a finger. For as long as the human exist demons have been forever tied to the idea of curse, most of the time the act of cursing is done by sending or borrowing demon power.

Whether humanity learned the arts by forming a pact with Demon kin or it was the latter that took inspiration in the former Demon and devils have become the strongest archtype within the field of curses.

Vlad's Noble Phantasm is by all mean strong, a realization of concept of a stake that has pierced its target. But in the end it was a 'human' noble phantasm meant for human.

It's only half effective on someone like Nero.

As a hunter he had experienced fighting 'weak demons who are strong'. Nero had almost expired thanks to a particularly nasty curse from one of the demon he hunted. Ever since then he trained himself to reject any form of curse using his own demonic power, and came up with a basic but effective technique against all sort of curse.

It was a method too crude to be called a procedure. Basically, he 'push away' or 'destroy' the curse and any 'alteration' directed at him. Maintaining his own state of existence and prevent it from being polluted.

After another two year he then devised a counter attack mechanism.

When you gaze at the abyss, it gazes back right at you. After preventing Kazikly Bey from manifesting Nero used the small interval where his 'concept' and Vlad's own was linked to 'grab ahold'.

Since Noble Phantasm is the realization of a heroic spirit's achievement it was nothing short of their very own being. In other words the hunter had successfully snatched Vlad's essence.

He tighten his 'grip' and Lancer's pain multiplied. This confirmed it, he really had won.

"Didn't thought it'd be that easy though..."

"I beg the differ, we lost both Goliath and Artemis after all. There are some ridiculously strong warriors among their peers." So Nelo denied, appearing beside his master. Not long after Mordred also arrived at Nero's side.

"Damn! I'm the only one that's not done yet!? Shit!"

"Well out of all of us your enemy is certainly the most troublesome so it's only natural."

"Really Nel? You're not giving me any credit for not getting stabbed by the guy known for stabbing people?"

"Well if it's any constellation it seems that we have already arrived at the endgame. What do you say, shall we wrap this up, young master?"

Checkmate. No matter what Siegfried do it is impossible to overturn the tide of battle at this point. Unleashing Balmung could be a worthwhile gambit, but his fellow Saber may simply overpower him again.

Not to mention they have yet to meet any other of the Red Faction servants...

"Nope, we're done here. For today, at least."

It was delivered so bluntly. Stated in a matter of fact fashion with a straightforwardness that almost convinced the listeners that it was the truth.

"Very well then, what says you saber?"

"...I don't really mind, but why? We almost win after all."

"Right. All of you are clueless, why don't you clear the confusion first, Nel? Public Speaking isn't really my thing."

"Oh no. By all mean you do it young master. It was I who did most of the heavy lifting, so it's only

Nero gave his butler a 'seriously?' look, but he remained unfazed. Groaning in defeat the hunter threw his arms into the air before starting.

"Fine! You morons better be listening cause I ain't saying this twice! First off, I'm not human!"

Everyone already knew that.

"Already realized it? Good, cause the next piece of information isn't going to be as easy to wrap your heads around so listen carefully! I'm not the only irregularity around."

"What...?" It didn't matter who dumbly uttered that phrase, he or she had let out the collective condition of everyone present.

"Apparently angels and demons also want a piece of the grail. One conveniently located inside your basement. Hate to break it to you but you guys are literally blaring air horns in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.

Anyway, today's still day zero so nobody are making any moves yet. But tomorrow, I guarantee that everything's going FUBAR."

"Why... Why are you telling us this!?" Lancer

"Pragmatism. Whoever it that wants the grail is taking the long way around by sending his lackeys after it, most likely he or she will send shit tons of lesser demons before making any actual moves.

Taking care of swarms is good for stress relief and all but it gets old real quick, so I'm having you guys handling it instead. Not that you have any choice in the first place considering you know what.

So that's the gist of it, and we're definitely NOT retreating. We kicked your ass this time and once the whole demon thing has been taken care off we'll do it again.

I've been paid to take care of you guys and the demons, you're just lucky that I prioritize my job more. I'm using you all for my own benefit. Also the red faction are super shady even for my standard. Hell they're almost as suspicious as that conman..."

"Ah, you are referring to Kaiki? That's really saying something." Nelo remarked, the humour lost to everyone else.

"Yeah. Consider this as a friendly heads up for what's coming, for all I know the demon after the grail might be stronger or craftier than me."

Nero then turned to his servant.

"You okay with this Saber?"

"Whatever, it'd be too boring to win on the first night anyway. Be sure to stay alive until then Saber of Black! Only I am allowed to kill you!"

The dragon slayer remained quiet.

"Guess that's it. Actually, you guys should really be thankful for me telling you all this. So just take care of the grail and I'll handle the rest. Sounds good?"

Lancer knew that he has no choice but to accept the condition. Even if it was a fair and beneficial deal the shame of defeat lingers.

"You will never see this sight again, demon hunter..." The prince snarked.

"I know I won't. I never wanted to win because the idiot I fought made a dumb mistake. And next time, I'll bring garlic and holy water so you just do you."

"Why you-!?"

Just like the first time he did it Nero smashed the air behind him and opened a portal to Limbo.

"See you jackasses around." He gave them a tow finger salute. "Come on."

With his two servants following they vanished into Limbo. Leaving behind the bewildered Black Faction.

XxX

It's a matter of affinity. To put it simply a 'human' heroic spirit like Vlad while possessing enough power to rival someone like Karna simply lacked the 'anti immortal' ability.

Nero would also have a harder time fighting Karna and Achilles because of their inheritance, and between getting stabbed by a piece of wood and a mythical spear we both know which is deadlier to a demon.

To put it into words, 'a human wouldn't stand a chance against a demon but a demigod would'. The sole reason Vlad could compete with Karna because of his Noble Phantasm quantity which Nero mostly avoided by flying.

Secondly, Karna himself in the novel claimed that if he was alive he'd have an easier time since he won't have to rely on prana supply. Nero possess that advantage since he's alive and don't have to worry about running out of juice (especially because he stock green and red orb as a precaution)

The final point being that this story's Nero received 'education' in demon hunting. So he not only slices and dices through demons he also knows enough about to come up with a basic counter attack against curses or 'alteration' something that Karna lacked also.

What I'm trying to say is, Nero is not a Mary sue in this fic. He got a 'devilish' get out of jail free card this time around because he's smart enough to piss off the right person and just that. Things would have gone differently if he had charged at saber of archer.

Hopefully that explanation is enough, also this chapter chronologically took place before chapter three. Because they got their ass handed to them the black faction decided to recover first instead of risking their neck out for Ruler.

The next chapter would feature all sides as they recover from everything that happened on day one and day two.

Thank you for your view and support, and be sure to check my other stories. I also have an ongoing original story in Inkstone (ultimate weekend adventure party) and just shamelessly promoted it here.

So until next time, I'm gonna take a little break and farm SERAPH. Voidwalker77 signing out.

CIAO!


	5. Chapter 5

(This section took place the morning before chapter 3)

"You're fucking joking right? That asshole is here!?"

"I assure you that my sense of humour is above 'lying for shits and giggles'. Though, your reaction is amusing in its own way."

"Go to hell V."

"You'll have to be more specific. Are you talking about Inferno, Jigoku, or perhaps Hades? Maybe Tartarus if you're going for a 'deeper' meaning."

Nero groaned while V chuckled. After sparing the enemy camp for their own convenience the Saber squad (Though Nero still refuses to be called that) went to Sighisohara by utilizing Limbo's spatial incoherence to their advantage.

There they rendezvoused with V and his two tag-alongs in a safe-house the summoner had set up during his previous visit. One that leads to his involvement in this very mess of a war.

Both of them had remained inactive ever since and have yet to make any moves. Instead keeping their involvement in the war to a minimum and keeping a lookout for any 'outsider activity'. It was only today did Nero learned the troubling news.

"What the heck is he even doing here anyway?"

He exasperatedly asked.

"From what I had heard the church seemed to have lost contact with the overseer. After dispatching an investigator to the sacrament who appoints him as their representative they learned that the priest isn't who he claimed to be..."

Nero scoffed. "So what is he? Some demon or 'angel' in disguise?"

"Not quite. As it turns out our priest is a self sustaining stray Servant."

"...You're shitting me right? Look, I won't even get angry. Just, tell me that you're lying."

V shook his head and again Nero groaned.

"The first ever Ruler summoned by Einzbern. By removing the Berserker class they cheated their own system and summoned a saint. Or rather, they should have..."

The summoner continued.

"Instead of dragon quelling legends they ended up with a so called sham of a saint from the east. A figure whose sole achievement is leading a failed Religious rebellion before having his head chopped off by the magistrate..."

Nero perked up at V's description.

"Amakusa Shirou Tokisada? The one who led the Shimabara rebellion?"

It was V's turn to raise his eyebrow. "I'm surprised. I never took you for the eastern scholar type."

"I only know that and that one time this guy enforced law that kills human who kills dogs. The only royal decision I would probably ever supported."

"Well trivial knowledge aside, our Ex-Ruler somehow survived the war and obtained a form of independent manifestation that allows him to maintain himself until today.

He received a false identity after assisting a Church member in his rescue works. Registering himself as Shirou Kotomine and afterwards becoming a part of the Assembly of the Eight Sacrament before finally disappearing into the middle east.

Most likely, for the preparation of this war. From circumstantial evidence that have been gathered he seemed to have already control of the Red faction excluding of course you and Saber."

Nero clicked his tongue.

"Guess I made the right choice not to follow standard procedure. Though I gotta ask, how the hell do you know all this?"

In response V threw a folder to the table. He can guess what's in there.

"Temperance was the one who delivered it, stating that it was Levi's handiwork as well as Heaven's more detailed archive. It arrives also along with an offering."

"Of what kind."

"The 'I scratch your back and you scratch mine'. Those two will monitor the Red faction in exchange of us personally handling the Blacks."

"You know you need to clarify your context on your last words, otherwise it would've gone south real quick."

"I take your sarcasm as a sign of cooperation?"

"Look, when someone decide to deal with shits that I wasn't paid to deal with, I'd say yes and worry about the consequences later. Besides compared to this Ruler guy I trust that asshole more."

Trust a man who earnestly stabs you but never a man who smiled and offered a handshake, so was the correct motto for their line of work.

"Fantastic. I'll send Griffon over for confirmation, and with that out of the way I have one more news that is... Troubling to say the least."

Nero rolled his eyes.

"We're already dealing with bunch of dead heroes. I can't see how whatever it is you're going to say next can surprise me."

So the hunter claimed while taking a sip of a cheap beer, courtesy of V's safe-house, giving age restriction a middle finger just like he did to many other things.

"Very well. The current Ruler, Jeanne D'arc, have been incapacitated by an unknown third party and lost all of her command seal to the culprit."

Making the mistake of multitasking while listening what Nero did next was a perfect anime spit take.

"The hell!?"

V again only nodded. "Quoting Michael, it's 'super bad.'"

"That doesn't even began to cover it V..." Nero rubbed his temple

"You sure whoever behind it is not in cahoots with our friendly neighbourhood servant stealing priest?"

"Current evidences have proven otherwise."

"Being?"

"Temperance have already located Kotomine's base of operation as well as his not so little pet project. However this so called false sage somehow escaped her unnoticed, and not only that he she also failed to find any trace of his being."

If what he did earlier was a spit take then what Nero's emulating right now was a cartoon-ish jaw drop minus only the elongation. What V had just said was something almost impossible it was as if he had proclaimed that the earth if flat.

Temperance was weaker than Nero (lots of people are) but that doesn't mean she's not strong. Just like V who specializes in drawn out fights or Lady who is firepower incarnate the wind daughter has a bread and butter of her own.

And that is hunting. Tracking down, pursuing, weakening over time, and finally killing. Nobody could perform all of those actions as effectively as her. The fact that the enemy managed to outwit her at her own game makes the notion of finding him impossible for V and him.

Nero's starting to think that his job's not worth the payment after all. Not even the awesome fight will be able to fully distract him from the fact that the guy they're up against managed to outrun one of the greatest hunter who had ever lived.

"Look on the bright side, this development made our next phase of the plan plainly obvious."

Nero wanted to argue otherwise but damn it, V's right.

"I know, problem is Saber's not gonna like it. Not one bit."

"Ah yes, the knight of treachery. It seems that we have a new addition to our 'I murdered my father club'..."

"Seriously? That's what you're focusing on?"

"Well obviously there's little that we can do to find 'the one that does not want to be found'. Hence I took the liberty of steering our conversation towards a more lax ground."

"And murdering our own dads counts as relaxing?" Nero deadpanned.

"Well it seems to be a common experience among our inner circle isn't it?"

Nero's father was the fabled first ruler of hell Nelo-Angelo (not to be confused by his demon butler who shares the same name), the only known demon who survived eating an angel and obtaining its power or perhaps the first ever fallen angel to come into existence.

Ambiguity of his origin aside he singlehandedly gained control over hell through martial powers alone, starting the tyranny that will later be known as the first reign of the underworld.

His rule was admonished by the blood brothers Sparda and Mundus, yet his defeat did not result in his death. The demon somehow spirited himself away to earth, and not long after sired the child known today as Nero.

"He was already dead when I actually 'met' him though..."

Nero didn't know much about his birth parents. Dropped on the doorstep of Fortuna's orphanage by an unknown woman he grew up all on his own before finally being picked up by the order of the sword for his 'particular set of skill'.

Long story short said group of wannabes knights of round tried to advance mankind by wiping out everyone's emotion. That didn't really sit well with a lot of people, and that includes Nero and his step brother Credo.

So they did the right thing and betrayed their superiors, though to be honest it was much harder for Credo since Nero never gives to shits about any other member of the order (except maybe Shigure and since he survived it really was easier for him).

During said betrayal the two of them came face to face with the leader of the order Artorius inside the grand construct of the 'savior'. The revelation was brought be the greatest knight himself right before presenting the corpse of Nelo Angelo that act as the savior's power source.

Nero was the one who destroyed the savior with his newfound devil power, and although his father was already dead his body was the battery that empower said victim of his. So it was a bit ambiguous whether or not did he killed his dad.

Also thanks to that event he met V, Lady, and Lucia. Becoming great acquaintances with the three other people who oddly enough shared the experience of murdering their old man.

"Last time I check your dad's still alive." Nero pointed out.

"I stabbed one of his seven hearts. That counts as something, 1/7 of a thing to be exact."

"Eh, whatever. I'm too whelmed to argue." The Hunter stated before taking another sip. "Speaking of which what's up with the Edward Blake thing though? And that Woman you brought here. She's a real lifesaver, that I admit. Still gonna ask why anyway."

"For the first: a single letter would not suffice as an identity in many establishment, a real bother if I do say so myself. So I've finally decided to get myself an actual 'name'. It only cost me a small fortune if I may add, you'd be surprised to find what you can trade for a handful of red orb.

As for Ms. Reika, to put it simply she's Jack's emotional clutch. You've said it yourself, she's a lifesaver. And I got a feeling that she'd decide to stick around even after this job, granted Assassin survive which I have every intention of ensuring.

To put it simply, she's one of us..."

"Yeah well, I'm getting my laundry done. So I'm not gonna complain."

Involving oneself with hunters is the same as trying to summon a devil. Regardless whether she did it deliberately or accidentally, most of the time, it will bring only sorrow and tragedy.

Needless to say those who did usually shared the exact same motive, that is to further their own selfish gain. Those who seeks revenge or wishes impossible to realize through means from the 'inside'.

For once Rikudo Reika is none of those two, not that any of them cared. She agreed to go with them, and regardless of whether or not was she truly aware of what she was getting into the deed is done.

She's with them to the end of the line, short or long.

"If pleasantries is off the table then I shall take my leave."

Again Nero scoffed.

"There's nothing much we can do right? We're dealing with the black faction exclusively now. Since they're our bait we can't do anything that'll compromise their fighting powers..."

In other words they can't kill any other servant. For now, at least.

"Oh rest assured, I have zero intention of killing any servant of black. Although, once I'm done, the black faction would ended up significantly... weaker."

Five seconds was how long it took Nero to put it all together.

"You're going to steal another servant. Aren't you?"

So that's why his smirk is more impish than usual.

"He is watchful while they are in peace,

For they know when their shepherd is nigh."

And just like he always did, engulfed by his own shadow, V vanished from Nero's sight.

"Well you do you and I do me I guess." The hunter raised his can to the now empty pantry, hoping that the rest of his beer would numb his head enough for when Saber and Nelo get back from their 'maintenance'.

Still there's another question that latched to the back of his head. Believe it or not, it has nothing to do with the mysterious outside forces trying to obtain the grail.

"What the hell would that guy wish for?"

XxX

Fate Rubeus Ater

Chapter V: A Short Tranquility

XxX

(This section took place at present time)

"You're not okay."

"Uh? AH! I mean... yes..."

"Too much to swallow in less than a single day. I'm honestly impressed that you haven't break down yet. Then again, agreeing to her proposal is already insane to begin with."

"...I thought it was the right thing to do..."

She wasn't supposed to be here. Not in the physical sense, but in a literal spiritual one.

A French girl who is chosen by the Holy Grail as a match for the materialization of Ruler Jeanne d'Arc in the Great Holy Grail War. After accepting the role, her personality is temporarily suppressed for most of the war.

The fact that she's 'here' means that the supposed setup above have been jeopardized. To the extent that not even the Ruler had taken into account.

"How is this even possible?" She asked aloud.

"Well, most likely the false Sage's arm is modified, giving the term 'damaging the soul directly' an entirely new meaning."

The remark seemed to hit a cord, and after realizing his blunder he quickly apologized.

"Oh. Terribly sorry, it seems that I was being too blunt."

"No-no. It's not your fault..."

"Is that so? You're being too nice in my opinion." So Michael pointed out while sipping on his coffee.

The two of them are currently situated inside of a dining facility within one of Sighișoara's hotels (They have Temperance to thanks for that).

Michael had transported the unconscious Ruler with him here right after last night's ordeal (bypassing through the front desk using angel's glamour). His greatest fear was confirmed when it wasn't jeanne who came around.

Laeticia brought her arm to her chest. Jeanne might be the one who 'received the attack' but her body remembered.

She had been pierced by a sword. No wound or scar remained, but the faint sensation of the pain still lingers. But more importantly...

"What about Jeanne? Is she alright?"

"Of course you'd be dwelling on that rather than the attempt on your life." The Hybrid remarked, sounding tad irritated. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it, but you've walked away relatively unscathed because she took the full burnt of the attack on purpose.

Even if her soul is fixing itself as we speak, chance is she'll be out of it until these whole thing blows over."

So that's why. She knew that Jeanne will not break her vow and keep her out of harm's way, but she never expect that she would have to sacrifice herself for her. For the first time Laeticia wondered if she had bitten more than she can chew.

"How are you holding up by the way? I'm sure it can't be easy to have the strength of ten men, at the very least."

"Oh! That! Yes! I don't think I would've managed without your seals..."

The distraction worked perfectly. She's as simple as she is kind, really this girl.

Although Jeanne wasn't the one inhabiting the body her vessel remains on prime condition, sporting her servant parameter as well as all of Ruler's privilege excluding her universal command seal.

The moment she awaken Laeticia had almost kicked a hole through the wall and destroyed one of the beds while trashing around. After calming her down Michael brought her up to speed before placing a seal that inhibits her superhuman strength.

He had planned ahead while taking into accounts that he no longer had Jeanne to work with, but Laeticia retaining Ruler's propensity means that things might not be as hard as he think it'd be.

By no means he has any intention to push her into the battlefield, merely to let her tag along and utilize her skills to help him further his investigation. Michael might be pragmatic, but he wasn't heartless.

Once he reached a certain milestone he'll send Laeticia back to where she came from. Her powers should also vanish the moment this great holy grail war is over, so it'll be fine to not pay it too much heed.

'Although it'd be much better if Jeanne let her keep them. It'll be quite the strong collateral.'

But now's not the time for that, what he should be focusing on right now are the two questions. Why does that person seeks Ruler's command seal and how will he utilize it.

The Einzbern wasn't an idiot, though they certainly underestimated the capability of an 'outsider'. Ruler only have two command seals to exercise on every servant each. So unless every master have used one of their own whatever order he issued can be nullified.

No. Unless the masters have one seal remaining their contract will immediately be terminated. Is that what he's aiming for? To engineer a situation where a link between a servant and their master is at their weakest and then steal the servants?

It'd be much easier if he steals the master's command seals straight away instead of Ruler's. Then, he probably did so knowing that on this war most of the masters will band together, so he went after Jeanne because she's does not have any allies.

'Even so, It's too early to draw a conclusion.'

Regardless of his motives, a meeting with the masters of Red is unavoidable. The very least he can do is give them a heads up to prevent any further loss of manpower. It certainly helps that the masters of red is actually the master of reds.

The negotiation should go smoothly, especially because of the dirt Levi managed to dug up on the 'overseer'. Hopefully no complications will arise during the course

Their next step clear, all that's left is to carry out the deed.

"I suppose that'll be enough for now. Do you?"

"Ah! Um..."

"There's no need to hold back. My line of work are both rewarding and sporadic you see."

"Even so..."

"No need to fret, not even your enhanced appetite can easily dent my wallet."

From the very beginning Jeanne's condition was not that of a conventional servant, but rather a special possession occurrence quite similar to that of a Pseudo-Servant.

Ruler is possessing a human body, an unprecedented summoning with a very weak link to the current world, so she has a number of irregularities that do not plague regular Servants.

She has the physical abilities of a Servant, but since she is linked to a physical human body through the realm of the unconscious, she has to carry on her life as a normal human.

She cannot turn into spiritual form, and she must deal with the body's needs of hunger and sleep. And the case of the former are... extremely magnified.

Stacks of plate so high that it perfectly covered Laeticia's feature from the side, and Michael had nothing to do with the cleansing of any them. He simply continued his breakfast as the stunned chef and guest stare at the girl with astonishment.

In exchange of pulling out feats impressive even by inhuman standards, her metabolism and consumption rate have increased.

"...I think... It'll be a few more plates... before I am full?" She weakly admitted.

"..."

At least she's being honest.

"(Sigh). Well do hurry up then, things maybe calm for now but we're still engaged in the middle of a war. I'd rather not dilly dally around for too long."

"Ah! I understand, then-!" Quickly she got up and ran to the buffet table, filling her plate to the brim with a determined look that does not suit the setting.

"Seriously, that girl... She's troublesome in more ways than one."

To begin with she is far too cooperative and trusting, swallowing pills of truth without any hint of hesitation. He already assumed that whoever Jeanne's hosts is would have a screw loose, but to think that it'd be this bad.

Just like with keeping her safe, Michael too had zero intention of keeping her in the dark. Naturally that means keeping her in the loop during the course of his investigation.

And that's where complications would probably arise.

Laeticia is a devout, and although her piety is abnormal it wasn't anywhere near jeanne's level. She will waver and falter, especially taking into accounts the nature of their adversary.

'Well, the hierarchy aren't exactly angels. Hopefully that'll be enough to convince to fight against them.'

Unlike other phantasmal species who were pushed to migrate into the reverse side of the world those who lives in [realm above] and [the realm bellow] are able remain on earth due to the major modern belief incorporating and confirming their existence.

Although all faith differs on who the true god is all of them gave the same description of paradise existing above in the sky and damnation buried down bellow. Hence why they are often referred to as angels and demons.

'If it looks like a duck and sounds like a duck, than it is certainly a duck'. Many refuses to believe it, including the hierarchy themselves, but that really is the truth behind their existence.

Moving on to the more physical realm while 'demons' who have no clear distinctions between their kin the upper residents are split evenly into two factions, the Sky-dwellers and the Hierarchy of Laguna.

The former took the appearance of modern angels. One influenced primarily by the images of the goddess of victory, Nike, of 4th Century Greek mythology.

On the other hand the Angels of Paradiso have no set form that serves as their basic. Their appearance varying based on their titles and ranks.

"It's almost perfectly mechanical how they decides their form based on their duty, they really do took things literally." In this case the phrase 'we are the tools of god'.

Belief had always been a dual edge sword. And if one even view it heartlessly they would notice that no generation besides its very founder are save from its misuse.

Maybe human nature was the one to blame. Blind devotion is what allowed corruption to go unpunished, and often did it lead to self destruction also.

"...Her included..." Michael sadly gazed at Laeticia (who is still gathering food on her plate).

Despite the positive feelings that most Angels govern and exude it is nothing more than a ruse to further give the impression of caring guardians of mankind.

They despise and deny owing their existence and purpose to humanity, making it their mission to 'correct' humanity by putting them under their rule.

Naturally this includes erasing any prove of their creation, resulting in an extremism that dictates the disapproval of every religion other than their own. Which include the erasure of every possible 'act of god', or more specifically the physical evidences.

Laeticia have become one of them.

An existence that they despise even more than heretics, that would be those that disprove of their strength.

One of them are the Umbra witches, their bane of existence that traded the angel's demise for everlasting youth.

The second are the sky-dwellers who are earth's first line of defense against the angel's never ending 'crusade'.

Last but not least, as well as the one they abhor the most, are humans who receives blessings directly from 'the lord'. In other words, a Saint.

Even if Laeticia is nothing more than a host she, even if briefly, was an indirect extension of the christian god. And yes, the hierarchy have enough manpower and time to spare to get rid of even that.

Ignoring Jeanne's and Laeticia's lack of knowledge, the fact remains that the poor gal no longer has a shot at a normal live.

Laeticia returned to her seat with a plate filled to the brim with food. Forsaking pleasantry, she hastily began to gobble the content of her plate. For whatever reason she seems to be in a hurry to continue.

"Despite contradicting with my earlier word, I firmly believe that one should not rush eating.."

Perfectly timed, and to no one's surprise, Laeticia began to choke the next second. With a sigh Michael pushed a glass of water towards her, quickly she snagged the glass and downed the liquid content.

The half-breed was worried that her quick intake will only further choke her, but thankfully she regained her breathing. It was another few seconds before she resumed her eating, this time at a much more moderate pace.

"Honestly. For a person out of your depth you're certainly eager. Does the idea of adventure appeal to you that much?"

Judging from her reaction he had hit a nerve. But it was not a fumble from his part, he meant to be blunt this time around.

"...I...I don't know much about the world, so when Jeanne came to me asking for help I was secretly happy..."

"..."

"Of course I'd be sleeping during most of it, in fact I'm secretly glad that Jeanne was the one handling things!

When it's all over I'd remember all of this as a dream... That's right, nothing more than a fleeting imagination of a girl who knew nothing but her hometown..."

"But you felt as if you've taken advantage of her, especially with how things are now."

"...Yes."

That was how she truly felt. For her to feel giddy in spite of the gravity of this situation. No matter how much she chided herself, it wouldn't be enough to make up for such childishness...

"The way I see it you saw a chance and you took it. You're being too hard on yourself."

"...But that would be... unfair..."

"No one is perfectly free of selfishness. Currently I'm saving the world, yes. But should a lower form of crisis come up and it does not offer recuperation then rest assured I will not be there."

"..."

"Our next person of interest is the same, he's the embodiment of the so called gray area if you will."

"He?"

"Why yes, he's also the perfect person to consult to regarding your crisis of faith considering his history and position."

"Who is he?"

"The sole master of the Red faction and the Ruler-class servant of the previous Holy Grail War, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada. Rejoice girl, for you will meet not only one saint but two."

XxX

(This section took place right after chapter 4)

"Geez, if I don't know any better I'd mistake this or a funeral."

The slam to the back of his head brought Astolfo no pain. But for the sake of the moment and in an attempt to lighten the mood even if just a bit he played along and let out a pained squeal.

His attempt failed miserably, and the already heavy atmosphere turned even somber.

"YOU DUMB SERVANT! CAN'T YOU AT LEAST READ THE ROOM!" His master scolded him.

Despite her nasty personality and the far too thick stench of death glued to her own aura Rider has to admit that his master is attractive. Though right now there's nothing but frustration and anger covering her clever looking face.

Seven servants occupied the throne room, each mighty in their own right brimming with power and confidence. However as of this morning none of those two remained, for their first clash and defeat have robbed each and every legend present of their pride.

Of course Rider was the sole exception. His legend are riddled with failures and losses after all, something like this is nothing new to him.

"CAN'T YOU KEEP IT DOWN!?" The pudgy master of Saber, Gordes, screamed. "IT WAS BAD ENOUGH THAT YOUR RIDER COST US OUR VICTORY-!"

"COST US!?" Celenike snapped back "THE ONLY ONE HERE TO BLAME HERE IS YOU AND YOUR SERVANT' INCOMPETENCE! IT'S BECAUSE HE CAN'T KEEP UP WITH THE ENEMY SABER THAT OUR BERSERKER WAS TAKEN OUT!"

Gordes looked like he was about to retort, but the king will have none of it.

"Silence."

That single word was more than enough to put a stop to their squabble. Whatever feeling the two masters have it is now replaced by fear and dread towards the impaler who sat on his throne.

"Whether it is due to our fault or the enemy's deceit, the fact remained that we lost. That's all there is to it..."

All things considered Lancer of Black's defeat was the most humiliating. It impressed Rider how a king like him would be able to retain his composure and dignity after such a beating.

"Now all we can do is to prepare for what's to come, for we have yet to see the Red faction's full potential."

Another grim reminder for the coming future. They were brought down to their knees by only a single master and servant pair, only defeat awaits should all the other masters of Red is as powerful as the hunter.

"I am however my lord, happy to say otherwise."

The bright relief came from the master of Lancer. As always the politician kept his cool even in the face of such clamor. This display only further proves that he really deserves the seat as the head of the clan.

"Do elaborate, Darnic."

In an act the opposite of their position as master and servant Darnic bowed before continuing.

"Firstly we have confirmed the identity of Saber of Red's master. His name is Nero, the Devil Hunter."

"Devil hunter? What's that?" Rider curiously asked.

"One of the last two remaining phantasmal species in the world. Receiving their name from their grotesque appearance and feral nature, those who made a living hunting them are called devil hunters."

"Is that why he is so strong?" again the statement came from Rider.

"Even among his ranks he is well known. And based on little information we managed to dug up he seems to be a prodigy of the sort, having taken up the job despite barely reaching his adolescence."

"Wait a minute!?" Gordes practically shouted. "Involvement of outside forces on any inside matter is forbidden!"

Darnic only sighed at his claim as if he had heard something idiotic, fortunately the other masters caught on quickly and managed to draw his conclusion as their own.

It was an unwritten rule that powers originating from the [Outside] should never be used in handling [Inside] matters. This is to avoid tragedies as any sort ability drawn from the netherealm are seldom to be able to be controlled perfectly and kept under wraps.

Nine out of ten times any attempt to obtain both 'angelic' and 'demonic' power resulted in the death of the perpetrator and the birth of a catastrophe.

However said powers are the only viable solution to ward off demons and hostile angels alike, and in the end both the clock tower and The holy church compromised for the sake of humanity.

Rather than wiping any trace of them from the face of the earth (not that either of them would be able to do so anyway), they instead limit their freedom and decide which matter would an Outsider be allowed to involve themselves in.

It was true that the law forbid Nero's involvement, but in this case it seems that the clocktower have circumvent their own policy. For their own benefit at that.

The one who declared it out loud, was of course, none other than their leader.

"I see, it seems that the benefactor of our fall are craftier than we thought."

"Indeed, my lord. They are cowards who would utilize whatever means they have to gain advantages after all."

"Then that brat of a hunter speaks the truth. Demons are indeed involved in this war."

"W-what are you two talking about?" Gordes asked again, still unable to digest the information.

"You bumbling oaf! It's obvious that the clock tower used lesser demons as a reason to appoint him as a master! That way they will negate the risk of us eliminating a servant by killing the master!" Celenike curtly explained.

Gordes could only let out a dumb 'geh!'. He again wanted to retort, yet, was prevented to do so, this time by Darnic.

"That's not all. There is also a peculiar rumour surrounding him, and despite the... opprobrium of our source it is best that we do not take him lightly..."

"And why is that?"

"He is supposedly a half demon. The spouse of between a human and an unknown dweller of the underworld."

There were no gasps of surprise at the delivery. All seven masters of Black have witness with their own eyes the impossibility that is the master of Saber of Red. The explanation instead grant them relief as helps them rationalize the situation.

"In other words, it's like we're dealing with a half-fairy? Is it?" Fiore chirped in.

"Indeed Fiore, and I'm afraid that not even you would be able to face him head on."

In spite of the disdain all of them held towards the hunter they must admit his strength albeit reluctantly. Not even the genius Fiore or the clan head Darnic could hope to match him in combat, but they don't have to.

"From the looks of it you seem to already hatch a solution to our problem, Master."

Darnic chuckled at the irony of his servant's word.

"Indeed, my lord. To put it bluntly, his status as a master is what grant him immunity from the law. In other words..."

"W-we would only need to beat Saber. Once he lost his servant he'll no longer be a master. And then..."

The clan head nodded.

"Correct Caules. All we need to do is to separate him from his servant, after that we simply need to return Saber of Red to grail and he'd be forced to cease his participation."

"Easier said than done Darnic." Lancer warned. "Need I remind you that the brat is a warrior of the highest caliber? That dog of a knight of his is also exceptional albeit rabid."

"Strength rank B+, Endurance rank A, Agility rank B, Prana rank B... aside from Luck, all her parameters rank above C. Truly fitting for a Heroic Spirit of the Sword."

In particular, the Strength rank is extraordinary. A plus is a rare modifier that allows the particular value to multiply for an instant. And then there are the Magic Resistance and Riding kills, both at B-rank—making Saber tenacious enough to only be damaged by A-rank thaumaturgy.

In the three Holy Grail Wars of Fuyuki, only the Servant of Saber ever manages to survive to the end—owing to their multifaceted strengths allowing them to cope with any situation, it is said. They who have witnessed the previous battle certainly cannot doubt this.

"What is particularly of note is that a certain section of her parameters are hidden."

As he is a Servant, Lancer did not understand, but Darnic can read the statistics of Servants as a Master. Yet he finds himself utterly unable to gain information on Saber's innate skills or Noble Phantasms. Despite feeling that he can recognize Saber's abilities or the design of the knight's sword, it seems as though he is prevented from recollecting.

Most likely, it is some kind of manifestation of a legend where Saber's identity was kept secret— perhaps an innate skill or a Noble Phantasm. In any case, this Saber of Red is sure to be a formidable foe.

"If I may, my lord. I would like to interject my opinion based on my observation and information I have managed to gather."

Unlike Gordes who forced his servant into an oath of verbal secrecy Fiore was more than to let Archer's voice be heard. A wise decision on her part, for he is known as the wisest of sages even in Greek mythology.

Archer's True Name is Chiro, a centaur, half man and half horse. His servant incarnation lacked his bestial feature as it symbolize his divinity that the teacher had given up at the end of his tale.

"Do enlighten us O' sage."

Chiron bowed slightly. "Many thanks my lord. Then to start off I'd like to further reinforce your word. The one named Nero is indeed strong, when it comes to frontal combat I am sure that his capability is only a notch bellow Achilles..."

The silence followed was suffocating. Achilles was the epitome of all warrior, and to hear such words from the mouth of the one who raised the world's most famous Demigod. It was not a praise from his part, but a completely rational gouging of his ability.

"What's more his composure is better than that student of mine. None of you might notice it, but during the first exchange he on purposely incite your anger my lord."

Lancer only remained silent as Archer continued.

"He held back and played along, giving it the impression that is was you who was in control. With your anger directed at him you forgo the other two threats and allowed things to take turn for the worst.

After that he finally revealed the true extent of his ability, and it was only then that we realize that we played right into their hands..."

It resulted in their fall from grace.

"Are you going to continuously sing him praise, or are you going to grant us your insight?"

"Rest assured that I'm proceeding into that part, my lord. I firmly believe that the antagonism directed at you played a vital role in his victory.

You are an exceptional heroic spirit but your legend are humane, a nature he took advantage of..."

"Are you calling me weak, Archer?"

"What I meant is that your legend, your achievement, does not contain any mystical element."

"Without a shadow out doubt."

"And there you have it. I'm sure that you yourself heard him when he said 'you were the one who tried to curse a demon', from my understanding his demonic nature grants him an edge against all sorts of 'humane' attack."

"So in the end it's only a matter of compatibility, is what you're trying to say?"

"I believe that the battle would have gone much differently have you not fall under his provocation and mobilize all of us from the very beginning."

"...Hmph. You truly are merciless when it comes to education O' sage."

"As a teacher I only deliver constructive criticism. I am glad that you did not mistaken it as a belittlement, my Lord.

"So you believe that my proposal is the most prominent method, then? Archer?"

Chiron nodded to Darnic. "However it will not be easy. At the very least we would need three servant, and it must include Saber and me at the very least."

"...That would be quite the gamble. And to only face a single master and Servant pair."

The War have undoubtedly began but the two forces have not truly clash. In a conventional Grail war summoning on of three classes would be the first step in reaching victory.

Instead of losing their value in a team based battle their status are elevated instead. Acting as a spearhead and making up the majority of their faction's battle power.

Risking losing not one but two of them is a gambit too risky to be called a double edged sword.

"Then my lord, what is it that we should do?"

Lancer closed his eyes as he began contemplating, his mind racing as countless scenario are played inside his head. Once again he was brought back to that time where he as a king must make the heaviest of decision.

The Lord Impaler reopened his eyes. The decision have been made.

"For now let us recuperate and prepare for the next assault. That brat warned us of a possible demon attack due to the grail being in our possession, if the red faction caught wind of this they'll most likely try and use it for their advantage.

As for the expulsion of the devil hunter. He seems to prioritize extermination before the grail, furthermore his force consisted of only him and his servants. Simply because he is a master of Red doesn't make him a part of the Red faction..."

"You believe him to be a wild card my lord?"

"He's focused, that's what he is, and not on the grail. If we stay out of his way then the chance of him antagonizing us will be little also."

Darnic wordlessly nodded at his servant's decree. "Then we shall do as you say. Any objections?"

His last words were more of a formality than an actual inquiry. There was no one in this room brave enough to go against Lancer's word.

At least during such early stage of the war where his might is integral...

"That is all. You may all take your leave and return to your respective endeavors. But do not grow careless just yet, the war has yet to even begun."

With a grim reminder of their defeat all servant and master pairs left the throne room. Some with fear towards the unknown scratching the back of their mind, others with a grudge to settle and a thirst to prove themselves.

But their sight is set on only victory, that is for sure.

XxX

(This section took place the day before section 2)

"I apologize, Lancer. But as impossible as it sounds your wounds are apparently... Permanent."

"There's no need to apologize. From the beginning you yourself know that your ability is not up to the task, Shirou."

In spite of the blunt comment that might as well be an insult, but the priest named Shirou simply continues to smile.

After all Lancer was telling the truth. If anything this whole attempt is a showcase. Otherwise he wouldn't have gathered the entirety of Red Faction sans Berserker for obvious reasons

"And there you have it. Suffice to say should any of you suffer any wound it will also be everlasting. At least for the duration of this war that is..."

'Even if you're heroic spirit it won't heal'. Is what he's trying to say.

"Not wanting to sound ungrateful or anything, but I'm much more interested about the guy who did this to our Lancer."

"Of course you would be. This is a foreword from my part, master of Assassin. Telling this idiot to avoid a fight is the same as ordering a bird not to fly. It's impossible."

Coming from Rider of Red and Archer of Red respectively their tone made it sounds like as if they do not care at all. Shirou knew better of course, these two are ancient heroes whose previous life were filled with life threatening occurrences even worse than this.

The fabled hero of Trojan war and the peerless champion of Greek mythology, brimming with confidence and embodying victory perhaps the Red Faction have already won with him on their side. As always the idea of a strong opponent ignited Achilles's thirst for combat.

Running counter to her fellow Greek the chaste hunter, Atlanta, approached the matter with a cool head. Sharp eyes containing a beastly glint now laced with caution. Just like the hero however she was unconcerned, for a the idea of her losing in a ranged fight is nonexistent.

"I see. Then I must apologize for wasting your time."

"On the contrary, dear priest! You have given me the most wondrous of gift! A plot twist of the greatest scale! A surprise so ridiculous none could have foreseen it yet anything but a plot-device!"

Foppishly dressed in refined, Medieval-esque clothing the most famous English playwright William Shakespeare felt nothing but delight despite the danger. To think that the already Grand story will improve even further!

"By the way I won't hesitate to sell all of you out for the sake of my survival! As an author it is my duty to document this story no matter what it takes!"

Caster is someone who will willingly employ deception, provocation, or anything else for the sake of spinning the story, needless to say none of them are fazed by his blatant declaration of betrayal.

"Coming from you it's a relieving message more than anything. Rejoice my master, for our dead weight will take care of itself."

Sounding cruel and uncaring the words came from a depraved beauty wrapped in a dress as dark as midnight.

"Ah, Assassin. I thought you said that you wouldn't come, considering your disinterest in the well being of our comrade."

"Oh but that is indeed the truth, master. I've only decided to drop by after hearing that our no good Caster will dispose of himself."

She was Assassin of the Red Faction, the servant of the representative of the church Shirou Kotomine. Her true identity is Semiramis, the world's oldest poisoner and the queen of ancient Syria.

Instead of one of the nineteen Hassan-I-Sabbah Shirou had summoned her after spending several decades locating a proper catalyst.

'No, if anything I am nothing more than a puppet to her whim.'

She was however anything but his 'servant'. Someone whose murders were not done in secret, but all deliberated and premeditated acts brought forth from a single glance or word that would cause her targets to die by the hands of others. Simply because he has yet to bore her was he allowed to walk the earth.

"How very cruel of you O' queen of poisoner! But alas this time your venom of choice is the truth!"

"Yes, yes. You have a penchant for words and theatrical. Master, why haven't we get rid on him yet?"

"The war has yet to even began, Assassin. Who knows, maybe our ally over here would be the one who help us reach victory."

"Him?" Semiramis chuckled. "You claim to be a man of stale humour despite saying the funniest thing, master."

Shirou only smiles at the jab. In fact, he felt somewhat happy that he was able to make her laugh.

"Well Caster's uselessness aside..."

"So I have been forsaken by even thou! Truly this must be the deepest region of the pit of despair."

"This threat cannot be taken lightly. Don't let your guard down for even a second. This assassin was able to bypass the combined perception of Ruler and Lancer."

'And get rid of one of my biggest obstacle...' he inwardly lamented.

"No need to be so worried! He might managed to go under our Lancer's radar but nothing is sure to get past any of my senses!"

A boast it might be but it came from the greatest of all warriors.

"Me being here kind of prove otherwise though."

Spears were brandished and bows were drawn. Despite being outdated and obsolete a man armed with a gun would know that he stood no chance.

Ancient, yes. Powerful, even more so.

"Mind putting those down?"

Their target, unperturbed.

A young lass dressed in a green military camouflage jacket and a browm ankle length cargo pants sporting many pockets. All but her orbs and a single lock of her green hair were visible.

"I can't imagine doing so in the face of an intruder. One good enough to get this close at that." Shirou politely declined her request.

The girl puffed her cheek. "I'm not intruder. Your window was open and I just went in."

"Yes. That is what intruding means. And I'm quite sure those 'windows' were locked."

Enhanced by Assassin's magecraft to be exact. So who was she managing to get this far? He has a guess, but he doesn't like it one bit.

"Well the wind must have blow them open." She nonchalantly suggested "Name's Tempreance, and I'm here to talk about that problem of yours." She pointed towards Karna's empty eye socket.

As expected, she's one of them. As Shirou feared the Church, or rather 'they', reacted much faster due to outside involvement.

No, She hasn't call him out or revealed his identity. Shirou knew that he was on their watch-list and it was only a matter of time before they finally raise arms against his grand scheme.

So why? Could he be so lucky that he was ignored thanks to the bigger threat? Or do they have something for him in store?

'Not yet. I just need a bit more time...'

"I, as the representative of the Red faction, am truly grateful for your aid. We shall try our best not to pose as obstacle."

The girl winced and began rubbing the back of her head.

"Yeah about that. As much as I'd like to continue hunting the guy behind all this, I can't."

"Do tell why?"

"To keep it short, thanks to a loophole in the laws the fake sage is now a participant of the holy grail war."

'So it's like that.'

"And you cannot go after him due to conventional laws."

"Something like that."

Basically they wanted a servant. One of his to be exact.

The laws forbid any outside interference on an inside ritual of any kind including any manner of Holy Grail War. Of course the clocktower was able to find a loophole and register a demon hunter, of all people, as one of their representative.

And now someone did the exact same thing in reverse.

"I see. Then, you are here to request one of the master of Red to relinquish their servant to you."

Giving up even a single servant, especially taking into account that he had already lost Saber of Red, could directly lead to the defeat of the Red and the denial of his dream. Yet, Shirou said it so nonchalantly as if he had nothing to lose.

This was the facade of a master manipulator, who instead of risking it all was taking the necessary action to minimize the likelihood of peril.

"Oh, no. Nothing like that. Just give us a command seal each and we'll be good to go."

"...By chance you mean command seals?"

Temperance scoffed.

"What are you a grammar Nazi? That's suppose to be the master of Lancer of Black thing, because you know, he was an actual Nazi.

No, me and my brother just need a single command seal each and we'll technically be a participant of this holy grail war. That would be more than enough"

The news should have brought him relieve, but shirou digress.

"So you are here to take two of my command seals and passes one of it to your partner."

As mentioned earlier The priest Shirou Kotomine had never been the master of Semiramis. Shaking off two 'angels' at the price of two useless arm tattoo would be a bargain too good to be true.

"Honestly, it'd take you up on that offer and get this over with. But... my partner has a stick up his ass and demand to open a discussion with all of masters of Red. You know, to bring them up to speed and decide which of them are gonna have to give their seals away."

"A fair proposition from your part. Though I believe that I'll still be me to be the one to gave them away. I'm only an overseer after all."

"You go tell him that. He seems very adamant on meeting the other master for some reason."

'Those four may look like an angel, but they're anything from a servant of the lord'. Shirou now know how true those words were. For them to commit extortion of all things.

"I understand. I shall inform the other master of this. At what time will your partner come?"

"Sometime tomorrow, probably. It's already late and he's currently busy handling extra luggage."

So Ruler survive. Even after losing her command seal she remain a formidable foe, things really have taken turn for the worst.

"Then I shall make due preparation. Is there anything else you wish to convey?"

"Oh, actually on the way here I ran into this poorly dressed big fellow who was all muscle. Is he one of yours?"

"...What?"

"Yeah. He asked me if I was an oppressor, and I answer no. After that he asked where the 'enemy' are. I assume he was talking about the black faction, so I pointed him towards the fortress of Millenia."

"..."

"Whoops... Did I do something bad?"

XxX

My god I fucked up this story's timeline as much as Barry Allen did his. Okay I'll try and sort this out, so please bear with me.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 section 1&2 Chapter 2 section 4 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 section 1&3 Chapter 2 section 3 Chapter 3 Chapter 5 Section 4 Chapter 6 (Hasn't been released yet) Chapter 5 section 2.

Sorry about that. And I don't think I can sort them out because the change of scene and character is one of my story's signature.I'm glad to say that after that everything will take place chronologically.

Regarding Nero's altered origin, basically he's a clone created by a mix of human and demon DNA. Since his mother was never revealed I figured this'll make a little difference.

If anyone's worried about him being OOC, please don't. I only tone down his aggressiveness a bit because he has actual role models growing up and that's it. Also I removed Kyrie because of reasons.

As for V, let's just say that his backstory is only altered slightly (he also doesn't have any biological relation with Vergil whatsoever, though they do get along as bookworms).

I guess that's that for now. As always Voidwalker77 signing out.

CIAO!


	6. Chapter 6

"You know... After seeing this I totally feel less guilty."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"At first I thought I messed up, giving him the direction and starting all this. But now I realized, I'm just helping nature take its course."

She's got a point, Achilles admitted.

Temperance Di Angelo was her name, and true to her word she was the perpetrator who set this entire chain of events into motion. Although knowing their Berserker it was only a matter of time before he went out on his own.

Heck, maybe it's a good thing that this occurs at the beginning of the war. With him serving as the vanguard as well as a sacrificial pawn this attack would be extremely effective all the while ensuring that the red faction will have enough breathing room to disengage.

Although Achilles would rather not run away with his tail between his legs, not with her watching at least. Mayhaps it was the opposite and she would admonish bold resolve in favor of the tactical resolution. Yes, she certainly seems to be the type.

To worry more about his impression rather than the brewing crisis, only he could be so carefree.

"Then, why bother coming with us?"

"Because back then I haven't seen 'this' yet." She pointed at the two 'arguing' servants, Berserker and Archer, the former walking while ignoring whatever sane reasoning the latter spat at him.

"Do you think she'll convince him to stop?"

"Knowing Anee-san she'll try her best. But if a command seal can't do it..."

"Yeah. He doesn't look like someone who'd stop when asked either."

The man was pure muscle. And Temperance wasn't talking about one of those bodybuilders ripped, what she's seeing is literal -falling short of three meters tall- a gray tower of power plowing through the forest wearing nothing but leather straps.

Questionable choice of fashion aside the wind walker is more than assured that the man is made out of steel. With arms the size of crocodiles, she wondered why he even bothers carrying a sword. Him not fighting with his bare hands would be a statement of irony.

"Oh! She's coming back!

Leaping from branch to branch, a girl clad in verdant green stride towards them. Her cold, sharp eyes contained a beastly glint. Her hair stretched out long and unkempt, utterly devoid of the silkiness that one would find amongst those of noble birth; however, it befitted someone which such a feral appearance.

Yes...she may well be a beautiful beast in human form.

"So how did it go? Nee-san?"

"He's a madman, that's for sure. In my opinion, this task is beyond me, or any of us in that matter." She shot a glare at the rampaging mass behind her, mildly annoyed at his total disrespect towards the forest.

"I guess so... not for nothing is he a Berserker."

In response, Atlanta narrowed her eyes.

"Rider... do you suggest we forsake him?'

He shrugged and replied.

"Do we have a choice? The only thing he can think about is fighting. You're the strange one here, trying to talk him out of it."

"I was rather skilled in the restraining of wild beasts. I did fancy putting a shaft through his knee and being done with it, but..."

"You'll have as much luck trying to score a head-shot or piercing his heart. Also, I'm 100 percent convinced that that won't stop him."

Archer knew that her word was of truth, the second hunter's choice of words causing Rider to grin.

"To begin with, we were given the role of the rearguard. Support Berserker if reasonable, and gather as much information as possible. All that's left to do now is to hope that some of the Melas will grace us with their presence."

"I'm pretty sure that both of you will get your chance. Cause there's no way anything short of a first-class servant, or maybe a demon as berserk as he is, can stop him."

Temperance's combat judgment, thanks to her inborn talent and extensive experience, was among the sharpest and most accurate even by Sky-dweller's standard.

And her object of observation only made it easier for her and others to gauge him thanks to his lack of self-control. Or just general control to be honest.

Both Archer and Rider to know of that, for they are superb hunters and warriors. They hold no illusions about winning a battle against seven entrenched Servants with barely half that number.

"It appears so. Stopping such Berserker calls for two Servants at the very least—if they do not send their entire force."

But—stopping that man would require an exceptional effort.

"Yet... he truly has leaped from our given understanding of what a Berserker is."

"I'll agree with that. You'd think his Mad Enhancement was low, seeing as we could talk to him..."

"That's the same as saying that a Lion is just a big cat. It can be cute, yes. It doesn't make it any less dangerous. No offense."

"None taken. The Thracian gladiator and symbol of rebellion, Spartacus... what an obdurate man."

Spartacus was a Roman slave and gladiator who escaped with seventy-eight of his comrades. He later repulsed an assault force of nearly three thousand, becoming a hero and inspiring armed uprisings by slaves in many places.

In the end, he was betrayed by the pirates whom he depended on, and cut down by the Roman legions—but until then, he had not lost a single battle. He remained a shining beacon of hope to the under trodden slaves.

He hated all oppressors, his will to fight set aflame by those with power. This mad warrior fought the masters to protect the weak—care for them, heal them—but more than anything else, to stand in defiance. That is the Berserker of Red.

All they can do now is to support his assault, gather as much information as they can, and get out when things take turns for the worst.

"Where is your mount, Rider?"

"Well, we're here to gather information... no need to give them any in return. I'm keeping them out of this."

"Hmm... I suppose that will not prove to trouble you. What if your weapon? Is it a sword or a spear?"

Before he can answer the question, the tag-along beat him to it.

"A spear. He couldn't resist twirling it in front of me to show off." Temperance confirmed and causing Atlanta to sigh.

"I expected as much. It's a relief that you didn't fall for such moronic masculine display."

"Ouch. I'm right here you know, Anee-san."

Ignoring his wince Temperance shrugged her shoulders.

"Knowing him I'm actually surprised he didn't pop up his chariot to impress me. Which is kind of bad since I was hoping for an actual conversation."

"Ah, you must be speaking of Xanthus. Indeed the steed is much wiser than the Rider in this case."

"Hey now, that's just mean..."

They continued to exchange words that unfit their pursuit of the loosed Berserker. There was no way they could lose track of his slow, unwavering stride even with the distraction.

"By the way, Archer, there's one thing I want to ask..."

"Ask, then."

"Have you seen your Master's face?"

"I have not... I have only met the mediator for my Master... that priest."

As soon as she was summoned, Archer noticed that the man standing before her was not her own Master. After all, what was clearly a Servant was standing by his side and, more importantly, she felt no connection to him at all.

"I haven't, either. Then again, I suppose that's only to be expected for a bunch of magi..."

"Yet... it is still peculiar. But, considering what awaits all of us at the end, perhaps it cannot be helped..."

In this Great Holy Grail War, the biggest issue is not defeated, but victory—and what follows. Whichever camp survives, it is unlikely that all seven Servants will remain accounted for—but it is also highly unlikely for only one to remain. In the end, the Holy Grail will only grant the wishes of one Master and one Servant. As soon as victory becomes clear, the division will begin.

Who among the magi does not aim to reach the [Swirl of the Origin] that sits outside this world, where all futures and all pasts are recorded? With such a possibility contained within the Holy Grail before them, even the closest of comrades would gladly slaughter one another.

Servants are certainly not exceptions; the only way to have their own wishes granted is to terminate the allies they stood shoulder to shoulder with. Therefore, any alliances will most likely last only until the winning side is decided.

"...Hence their refusal to appear before us."

"I don't think so. They should at least show up... I just can't help suspecting that priest and his Servant."

"I'd be worried if you didn't. I've met tons of shady people over the years, and that priest easily made it into the top of my list."

Temperance chirped. She dealt with trickster demons on a daily basis for god's sake, and yet that (most likely fake) clergy easily unnerves her.

No, rather than creepy perhaps the word 'driven' is more appropriate. Which makes everything even worse.

"...Could it be that you know something we don't, Ojou-chan?" Rider prodded.

"I neither deny nor confirm that theory."

"That's a shame, I thought we have grown closer as friends."

"And that's is as close as you'll ever get."

In spite of the brutal takedown, the Rider chuckled.

"Maybe for now, but none of us knows what the future holds..."

Not even showing acknowledgment to his advance, Temperance let loose of a warning instead.

"Something's coming."

"Is it the enemy?" Achilles grinned in anticipation. Naturally eager to attitudinize for obvious reason.

"It is... but they are not Servants."

As Archer finished, what stood before Berserker was the Yggdmillennia vanguard: combat homunculi and massive bronze golems that towered over Berserker. There were over a hundred.

"Should we help him?"

Rider suggested, sounding rather deflated.

"Funniest thing you said all night. If only you're at least this clever the rest of the time."

Archer nodded. "Yes, of course, your display of daftness is humorous in its own way also..."

"...I'm starting to think that none of you like me..."

The battle between the vanguard of Black and the Berserker of Red was completely one-sided.

The halberds of the homunculi bit into his shoulders. The fists of the golems buried themselves in his face, impacting directly with enough force to shatter steel. However, these attacks did not make the smile disappear from Berserker's face. If anything, his grin widened.

Berserker made no attempt to avoid their attacks in the first place. In fact, he seemingly took pains to leap into their paths.

He took their beatings again and again, simply taking it all. Regardless of pain and injury, his expression was always one of ecstasy. Soon, even his attackers—tireless homunculi and golems—hesitated and stopped. That was when Berserker moved.

"Wretched puppets of the oppressor—may you at least find peace by my blade, and my fist."

Berserker grabbed the face of one of the golems with his hand, effortlessly tossing aside the three-meter-tall construct and crushing the homunculi who had the misfortune to be standing where it landed.

"Yes, you too!"

Saying this, he swung his sword in a wide arc—and the homunculi nearby were relieved of their top halves. He threw a punch at a struggling golem, pulverizing its reinforced bronze head.

Berserker was unrelenting in his barbarity. Spreading both arms wide, he boldly advanced. Embracing five golems at once, he bent backward and flipped the several tons of bronze to the ground, destroying their skulls.

The man was a walking disaster. Every slash and punch produced more corpses and debris. But what was truly nightmarish was the unwavering smile on his face as he swung his sword and his fists.

Even the homunculi, with their diluted emotions, became infected by his madness and fled the battle.

Ripping the final golem apart limb by limb, Berserker looked around at the traces of destruction and carnage he had wrought, nodded in satisfaction, and began to walk again.

"Are you guys sure you didn't summon a demon by mistake? I mean, I wouldn't even laugh. It's completely normal for mix-ups to happen during summoning."

"That would certainly be a viable explanation..."

Archer and Rider exchanged glances, their disquiet characteristic of those who have just witnessed something highly unpleasant. It was only natural that Berserker had fought and won; they did not find the misery he had sown dismaying or impressive. However, the way that Berserker had beamed from start to finish sent a chill down their spines.

"Human or not... a Heroic Spirit like that certainly couldn't be anything but Berserker."

If he had at least shown some anger, they might have believed him to possess a measure of reason. But he did not; he fought, he killed, and he crushed, all the while wearing an entranced smile.

"Seriously, I can replace him with a [Pain - Driver of Agony] and you still won't notice the differ-!"

Stopping herself mid-sentence Temperance hastily raised her left arm and summoned her weapon, a circular two-pronged large ring materializing around her raised appendage.

A magic bow imbued with an unparalleled power of wind. Despite its identity the weapon sports no strings, for its operation was unlike any other arms of range.

Her heirloom 'bow' does not launch regular arrows, but invisible sonic vacuum arrows to cut off foes. Due to the nature of this weapon, she can attack with only a slight motion of a finger.

Three 'arrows' were fired and with forthwith intercepted their intended target. All six projectiles vanishing after the clash proving that they were of equal strength.

Rider and Archer also sprang into action, brandishing their weapons and emitting bloodlust enough to rattle even demons. Theses people truly are heroes of old, so Temperance thought.

They reformed and picked up the pace, striding forward in a loose triangle configuration. The attack has been straightforward, but the offender was fast and cunning enough to quickly retreat into hiding once the surprise attack fail.

A glimpse of the projectile, however, was more than enough for Temperance to narrow down the suspect list. Not many would be able to fire such strong hell's lightning all the while being nimble enough to hide from plain sight.

There's only one person nearby who fits the bill, or in this case animal.

"I thought Nero was working with the Red faction?"

"That Emo? Please!? As if someone like me would listen to a deadweight!"

A voice answered seemingly coming from everywhere. Looks like the damn bird was smart enough to keep hidden after that one time she threw him into the blender.

"Sounds rich coming from an Edgar Allan Poe OC reject."

"Oh~ you can yammer all you want Windy! But this time, you're the one coming home in a body bag full of cuts!"

Springing out of the treeline Griffon spread his wings wide and open fire. Three violet electric shocks surging towards them like angry snakes.

Just like the real thing it poses them no harm.

Achilles smashes the current with his trusty spear. Atlanta fired three arrows in rapid succession, each dispersing the attack until it vanishes. Vacuum blades tore through the thunder as directed by Temperance's digit.

It was only thanks to the element of surprise did Griffon stand a fighting chance. Forget about killing even one of them, running away was already nigh impossible! Nobody told him that they got two Archers!

Not really a problem since he wasn't planning to run away...

(CLANG!)

Sparks fly as a strangely shaped knife grinds against cutting sonic, followed by the booming sound of three lightning pillars raining down from above. To defend against them was another easy task, but it forces them to take their eyes of the second threat for a moment.

More than enough time for said enemy cell to return into hiding.

"Assassin of Black!" Atlanta narrowed her eyes. "But how did you-?"

"Thank that damned bird and that big mouth of his! He always let slip if you poke him just right, and he always picks his words literally."

"I see. Cut up in a body bag, since that claim has nothing to do with his ability you focus more on detection than counter-attacking. That's one hell of a deduction!" The Greek hero praised only to receive an eye-roll in return.

"I've heard rumor of him stealing a servant from the black faction... But he's not the type to work with magus... It doesn't add up..."

"Unfortunately I must ask you to push your investigations aside. Those two doesn't stand a chance against the three of us but-"

"It'd be bad since we can't take them down quick. Right Anee-san?"

Attempting to take them down separately would be foolish, as focusing on only one of them would mean exposing their backs on the other.

"I can make an opening when they attack, you two just go on ahead."

"I get that things are a tad dire but that's a bit too extreme don't you think."

"For once I must agree with him. That course of action is far from ensuring to be a solution."

Not to mention suspicious. There is nothing to gain by helping them out of this roadblock, so why would she put herself in harm's way for someone who might not be an ally? The wind walker is certainly not to type to do things out of goodwill.

"Don't worry. I'm way better at handling the likes of them, heck in a forest as lush as this I can't be beaten. If I don't have to look out for you two It'll be much easier."

"Even so..." Her claims might be credible, but how could he leave behind a dame to be besieged. What kind of hero would he be then?

"Look I still feel bad just a teeny bit for sending your Berserker on a rampage, and it'd be troublesome for me if those two get killed, so let's just take the middle road, yes?"

"...Let's go Rider."

"Guess I have no choice then. Stay safe alright?"

"I don't need you to tell me that."

Stopping her dash Temperance disengage from the servants and did what would be identified as Pete Townshend's windmill, sending an onslaught of squall that shook her surroundings.

A feminine grunt and a loud gawk was heard, Rider and Archer did not look back else they would risk losing the window their ally had provided.

The forest turned silent after the attack. Now it was a game of patience, who will make the first move?

"Hm~ I'm pretty sure I got all of the pigeons. You two can come out now."

On command a disheveled Jack jumped down from one of the trees, quickly followed by a cursing Griffon who look worse for wear.

"What the dodge was that!? I just got my feathers' cleaned for god's sake!?"

"Nothing compared to being blasted by a lightning bolt out of nowhere I bet! When I said put an act I mean put an act, not try to kill me!"

"You're the one who changed the meeting location from a secure site into the hecking middle of a battlefield! If I wasn't convincing enough, it would've been me who got whacked!"

"Tch, fair enough. Why the funny talk though? You sound like Wolverine if he didn't know how to curse."

"I was left babysitting the kid." Griffon gestured towards Jack. "V's not taking any risk me running my mouth around her, so he put a freaking 'parental guard' for my audio."

"Hecking!" The little dissector mimicked, raising her two knives like an excited child.

"For good reason I see. Where is he anyway?"

"O-o! us! We know the answer! Can we please answer that mister Parrot!? Please!?"

"(snicker) Mr. Parrot?"

"Ha-ha~ laugh it all you want, I could care less. Knock yourself out, kid."

"Okay! Big brother V is over there!"

"...At the castle?"

"Yep!"

"That castle?"

To her horror, the little girl nodded. If it was any other castle then Temperance probably would've pet her head and give some candy, but the one she's pointing at was none other than the castle of Millennia

"Okay. How and why?"

"Beats me." This time it was Griffon who answered. "Said something about making Jack the Ripper's essence of mystery his own using the kid as a connector to the throne. Next thing I know he can shape-shift."

"Still didn't answer the why?"

"Aren't you supposed to be the smart one? I know the guy has some screw loose, but he's not the type to do something risky if the payment isn't worth it."

Temperance shook her head. "What could possibly equal the risk of fighting six ser...vants... Oh."

Even without actual facial features, she can tell that the damn bird was grinning.

"Bingo."

"Bingo!" Jack again mimicked the parrot.

What's worth the death certainty of facing a servant could only be to obtain one. V probably hold no interest in the grail and view this whole thing as nothing more than an opportunity to get high-end familiars.

"Still, isn't it a bit reckless? Trying to pull a stunt like that in a time like this."

"You think I told him that? Idiot just quoted some rando and says: no time like the present!" He angrily gawked.

"Okay, and you two seriously just gonna do what he said?"

"Big brother V told us to stay with Mr. Parrot! We're really worried about him, but we don't want to be a bad girl."

Note to self, pat this girl whenever I get the chance and give her some candy.

"And what about you?"

"I'm a literal manifestation of an edgy kid's mental trauma. Suicidal thoughts made up at least 30% of my being no matter how much I like to exist."

"Makes sense. So what now?"

"Normally I would want to keep this charade up and blast you with lighting bolt…"

"First of all: As if you can. Secondly: I'm sensing a but here."

"But... in case you haven't noticed, those friends of yours weren't the first one to attack the Black faction.

"That explains the lingering scent, though to be honest I almost missed it."

"Not surprising since it was only a bunch of lesser demons. There was an Empussa Queen and a couple of Hell Antenoras, but the servants made short work of those. Oddly enough, the attacks stop just before you guys arrive, and we both know that demons aren't ones to hit the brakes so easily."

"They're being controlled then, and whoever it is, he or she is doing a good job cleaning after…"

Enough for even a hunter from the age of gods to miss it. Temperance was only able to pick up the faintest of traces thanks to years of interaction with demonic elements, and it was only a gut feeling at best.

"We're definitely dealing with a high-ranking demon, and an intelligent one at that."

"And that's why we want you to take the lead. Who's better to look after an elusive demon if not Sky Realm's number one hunter?"

"Sucking up isn't changing the fact that you're actually just dumping your work on me, birdbrain."

"Birdbrain!" Jack chipped in oblivious to the mockery.

"See? She gets it."

"Just shut up and hop to it. Come on kid, we're leaving."

"Okay! Bye-bye miss windy!" The assassin nodded and began waving at Temperance.

The wind walker waved back, not at all fazed when she disappeared in the blink of an eye. Griffon didn't waste with casualty and quickly took off, becoming one with the night sky thanks to his natural hue.

"Geez, first Michael and now him. Is everyone involved in this a slave driver?"

She asked no one in particular.

"Welp, better get to work then. The fight is also starting soon…"

The Demon she's searching for is a skilled and cunning one, so any ensuing chaos should provide more than enough window for him or her to abscond. She must get a move on before the battlefield devolves further into mayhem and adds in more pitfalls, not to mention the target had a headstart.

'Hopefully, this won't be that hard, I really need a confidence boost after that whole thing with the fake Lumen sage….'

But she know better. This pursuit warrants for every single iota of her focus, and giving it her all is a must if she wishes to succedd.

She can't help but wonder, however, just how Archer and Rider of Red are doing.

XxX

It was almost terrifying how calm her partner is. Though she had long 'perished' before he was even born, knowledge from the grail has made sure that Atlanta knows just how grand and glamorous Achilles's achievement was.

One riddled with women and bloodshed a'la Greek history.

Of course, she knew better than to blindly trust historical records. Knowing full well that humans of this age tends to overly romanticize even the likes of serial murderer. She was not at all fazed by his womanizing ways, even less so when he soundly changed his course from her and to another woman.

So anyone who had known him, even for only a brief moment, would be caught off guard by the level of focus he's displaying.

"There's no need to worry about her."

"Hm? What was that Anee-san?"

"I said, that brooding over her condition is a lost cause. You of all people should know that she can take care of herself."

His worry seems to lessen somewhat, but his concern obviously lingers.

"I'm not telling you this for comfort mind you. That girl is a magnificent hunter, enough for even me to admit so."

"...Are you serious?"

The dying of myth have brought forth an age of prosperity for mankind, but in exchange for a realm where death is less prevalent humanity is greatly weakened. Should they spend even a single day in the previous age the chance of them surviving would be close to a naught.

Naturally, the case was different for Temperance due to her inheritance, but the factor only alter it to the point where she and denizens of the epoch of gods share the same starting line.

Atlanta was never someone who would lie to put others at ease, everything that came out of her mouth had always been an appraisal based on nothing but the truth.

"Without a shadow of doubt."

"...I'll take your word for it then…"

The timing couldn't have been more perfect, as Archer's nose began to twitch in discomfort.

"We are perceived. Servants of Black are approaching."

Archer's senses were far beyond those of Rider's. If she were correct, they would be meeting the enemy very soon.

"Prepare yourself..."

"Got it."

"I will withdraw and aid you and Berserker from the rear."

Archer immediately retreated into the shadows of the forest. Although Rider watched her go and could sense her, he no longer knew where exactly she was; for such a peerless huntress, becoming one with the forest was an effortless task.

The realization perks him up even more, for chances are Temperance might have already dealt with the earlier nuisances and is stealthily observing him from afar.

Rider hoped that would be the case, and that this would be a chance for him to show off.

"All right, then... time to go a few rounds."

Finally, even Rider's eyes could clearly see two shadowy figures slowly advancing from the depths of the forest. He sensed that they were both Servants. Apparently, their enemy thought a mere two Servants were enough to bring him down.

"You underestimate me, Servants of Black... or do you think you have any chance of victory against me without sending out your entire force?"

Rider sneered, overflowing with confidence. Despite not using his primary weapon, he surged with an enormous, electric will to fight.

"Aaaa..."

"..."

The two Servants appeared. One was the Berserker of Black—a girl wielding a giant battle mace—and the other was Saber, who was embroiled in a fierce duel with Lancer last night that lasted till nearly dawn.

"Hey, there—Saber and Berserker, I take it?"

Saber nodded wordlessly and Berserker made a noise of affirmation.

"I'm the Rider of Red. Oh, you don't need to worry—I didn't already lose my steed before the war has even started. It's just such a waste to bring it out against just two opponents. I'd much rather ride out against all seven at once. Especially since there's a chance a certain someone is spectating..."

Rider said mischievously. In other words...

None of you are worth my time. Come at me with your full strength if you want to see what I'm capable of.

However, the ones who faced him were also proud Heroic Spirits. Berserker's moans became harsh; Saber arched his eyebrows, looking angered. The murderous air alone would crush the heart of a mere commoner—but Rider coolly received their deadly gaze. Faced with beastly ferociousness on one side and the forceful presence of a true hero on the other, Rider continued to smirk.

Killing intent and hateful animosity—the man was far too accustomed to both being directed at him. To the hero for whom one true friend and the women who loved him had meant all the world, this was but a slight breeze.

Nothing had changed—only the time in which they existed and the weapons that they wielded. It would always be the same... and he would always cut them all down like they were nothing.

That was how the Rider of Red had striven to live his life.

"Come... I'll let you feel what a true warrior is."

He readied his spear—and his thirst for blood crushed the air. Saber stood his ground bravely, and Berserker's artificial mind allowed her to take it in stride, but any normal humans would have their spirits utterly crumbled.

Three—so the countdown began.

The thick forest was unsuited to the swinging of swords and spears.

Two—and the air froze in an all-too-familiar way.

But, in this place, the spear was superior to any other weapon in one aspect: the thrust. With his hero-slaying spear, able to pierce hearts and penetrate skulls with every strike, Rider felt no disadvantage at all.

One—and time itself seemed to stop before the eruption.

And most of all, with one of the world's most famous archers at his back, nothing would shake his nerve.

Zero.

All things crude and impure were blown away, swept aside, as they stepped forward and leaped, swinging sword and mace and spear.

XxX

The vanguard of homunculi and golems was meaningless before the Berserker of Red, readily turned back in a single strike. However, the Servants of Black were not perturbed. After all, that was how a Heroic Spirit ought to be in battle. There were no surprises.

"Well... a slaughter like that is pretty abnormal, if you ask me..."

"What a dreadful sight. That Heroic Spirit does not fight with skill, but fiendishly butchers the enemy with the power he takes such pride in. No need for technique, or judgment—it is as though he was born to fight and kill. Perhaps the class of Berserker did not enhance him at all... perhaps he was not fit for any other class to begin with."

Archer agreed with the murmurs of Rider. Surrounding the two was a force of golems incomparable to the vanguard sent earlier. In fact, over half of the golems created as the fighting force for the Yggdmillennia had been mobilized for this operation.

"I wonder if he'd kill me and you like that, too."

"It certainly is possible with such absurd strength. Do not let him strike you directly."

"Yeah, all right... I'll do what I can. There's no use in complaining after all!"

Rider straightened himself, firing himself up again, knowing full well that he doesn't have much voice in the matter. He raised his splendidly ornate golden lance, as though daring Berserker to come at him.

"In a way, it is you who must realize the most dangerous task, Rider. Remember—stay on your guard."

The bowman turned into spiritual form, returning to the top of the fortress wall where he ought to be. Left alone, Rider sighed and muttered to himself.

"Geez... I really wish I wouldn't get jobs like this... facing danger head-on? You can't be serious... well, I guess I don't have a choice!"

Rider said, boundlessly bright—and a tremor came from the depths of the woods to answer his call, coming closer and closer. However, the source of the noise was still sinking in the darkness of the night, imperceivable.

Is he here...?

An unexpected silence descended upon them. The noise stopped, and only a rushing wind came upon them. However, a Berserker cannot conceal his presence; even if he is not yet visible, it is fully clear that he is there.

Certain that his enemy is close at hand, Rider stepped forward.

"O oppressors, your time is nigh! Your pride shall be vanquished, your conceit of superiority routed!"

It was then that Berserker appeared, blowing aside branch and tree.

"Ugh..."

For the briefest of moments, Rider wanted to leave this place behind.

He was not afraid of giants; he had once fought the many-armed Caligorante and paraded him around the streets. He did not fear hard-faced men or rampaging beasts. But the soft smile on the face of this colossus was... unnerving.

Yes, the fact that he was smiling was the most frightening thing. To smile in the midst of the enemy meant he was either greatly confident in himself, or so insane that he no longer cared who had the upper hand.

The giant was over two meters in height and wielded a gladius. From the previous encounter, it was evident that his fists themselves contained quite some power. On top of that, his toughness was exceptional. Most likely, even if Rider could injure him, he would not be able to finish him off.

In other words, Rider cannot hope to hurt him. Nevertheless, he understood that the tip of the spear had been entrusted to him—he must lead the advance.

"But, well... that's why I've been summoned, right? There's no helping it, then. Let's go!"

With a wide, daring grin on his face to match Berserker's, Rider brandished his golden lance.

"Let those afar hear my voice! Draw near and witness my splendor! For I am Astolfo, one of the Twelve Paladins of Charlemagne... prepare yourself!"

It was a phrase that he had wanted but did not have the chance to say for quite some time, and he shouted it as loudly as he could. In the end, he even revealed his secret without much thought but, luckily, his opponent did not have the mental capacity to form strategies based on his true name.

"Hahahaha! Good. What splendid arrogance. I shall crush it beneath my heel!"

Berserker laughed as he charged, unexpectedly nimble despite his size, raging like a great wild boar.

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

He swung his sword high and brought it down. It was a fierce crushing blow that likely could have squashed the diminutive Rider, who avoided it cleanly.

"Guh...?!"

However, it was one of those attacks for which evasion meant nothing. Berserker's strike gouged the earth, blowing back Rider with the force of the attack alone.

"Owww... what a horrible attack."

Rider grimaced and got on his feet, rubbing his back where he was hit. There was still no fear in his eyes.

He was facing an enemy that could blow him away with a single touch, overcome him with raw strength, proof against any of his techniques. However, Astolfo was a Heroic Spirit... a valiant paladin of Charlamagne, whose reason was said to evaporate, and an adventurer who flew all over the world, creating many legends. Through his journeys, he had won numerous [Mystic Codes]—his flute, his grimoire, his hippogriff, and his shining golden lance.

"Come, then... let's show them what you can do, Argalia!"

Rider dashed forward. Even without his mount, his charge became a bolt of lightning.

However, to the Berserker who was deprived of almost all emotions, Rider's attack was a thing of joy, and most certainly not of fear. For surely, the more intense his strike—the deeper he despaired—the more pleasurable Berserker's counter-strike would become. Even if the lance were to run him through, Berserker would deliver his riposte without fail.

Certain of himself, Berserker raised his sword again, compressing his abdominal muscles until they became stiff as steel.

" [Trap of Argalia : Down With a Touch] !"

Yet, killing is not the primary intent of Rider's lance.

A spear is a spear, of course. If stabbed into the enemy, it will draw blood. If pierced in the heart, it will kill. But it is nothing more than a cavalry lance; its force has not been strengthened by thaumaturgy, and it did not possess any special property to penetrate all defenses. It was not fated to pierce it's enemy's heart in any way. Despite all of the above, the power of this lance is deadly in battle.

Berserker shook violently as he felt his body collapsed to the ground. The solid earth which he stood firmly on disappeared, causing him to momentarily forget the sword he was supposed to swing down. Still, the smile remained on his face. He felt no shock at all. But no matter how hard he tried, it was impossible for him to overturn this preposterous condition.

The Trap of Argalia, the carelessly named Noble Phantasm of Rider, was a spear that could only do what its name suggested. According to legend, this beloved lance of the Cathay prince Argalia causes anyone it touched to fall—and to heavily armored knights on the field of battle, a fall inevitably leads to death. Aside from that, it is not difficult to imagine how much glory the use of this lance brought its users in those pompous jousting tournaments.

Used on a Servant, this Noble Phantasm realizes its legend by forcibly returning its target to spiritual form from below the knee. Regardless of where the lance hits—even if it is on armor woven by mana—the prana supply to that part of the body will be physically cut, rendering it temporarily impossible to take form as flesh and blood.

That being said, such a weapon would not be enough to stop Berserker. He still had his body from the knees upwards; he would still drag himself on to defeat his opponent.

"Depriving me of my legs will not stop me."

"Oh, I'm sure of that... which is why we are going to stop you now. Get him!"

At Rider's words, the golems standing by assaulted Berserker as one. The golems, weighing over a ton each, tried to press down and contain his arms. However, Berserker beat them back with ease, swinging his arms wildly. The upper bodies of the golems were shattered by his fists—but the strength of these constructs was that, even without their heads, they did not completely lose their function.

Working like an army of ants overcoming their prey, they quietly overwhelmed Berserker. But their prey was not some powerless animal, and their endless bites could not stop the giant.

Berserker did not stop. Even after losing his feet, he still advanced headlong towards the castle.

"Hahaha! Yes! Wonderful! The enemy ranks are as a mist, covering me with wounds from head to toe! Yes, this... this is worthy of song when victory comes!"

Golems covered every single part of his body, their combined mass double his own. Enveloped by a suit of stone and bronze, he continued to advance.

Further, further, ever further. The Berserker of Red might be a fool, but he was not delusional. By his skin, his ears, his eyes, his tongue—he knew that the oppressors were waiting for him.

"An admirable effort. You need not feel shame, Caster... your golems are great works. It is that Berserker that is abnormal."

"...!"

Berserker accelerated. Ripping away the golems covering his face, he saw for himself what stood before him.

"You..."

"Yes, Berserker of Red faction. If you seek the oppressors—then I am the one who stands atop them."

"Ahh... ahhhh... ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Berserker stretched out his hand in joy. Just a bit more, and he would be able to reach the heads of the oppressors. Joy and glory had always came after the clouds cleared and the suffering ended. There were no flaws in the mad warrior's logic. It was absolutely perfect.

However, he had forgotten one very important fact. What awaited him at the end of his suffering was a cruel and tragic death.

Lancer—Vlad III—watched with an icy gaze as Berserker rampaged on. He was the hero who ruled Romania with an iron fist and grimly massacred all those who opposed him. And his enemies, with fear in their hearts, called him...

" [Kaziklu Bey : Lord of Execution] ."

Lancer declared, and the ground nearby bulged.

"I shall... crush you, oppressor!"

Berserker did not falter at all despite the weight of the golems. He raised his sword arm—but it was pierced by a sharp stake. Regardless of whether he could feel pain, the stake still stopped his movement against his will.

"I have spent my entire life fighting against insurrectionists such as yourself. I destroyed them, leaving their meat to rot on my stakes..."

Stakes several meters in length pierced Berserker, along with the golems. Lancer did not refine his strikes beyond not aiming for Berserker's spiritual core. Although he actively avoided killing Berserker, he saw no need to trouble himself with further restraints.

It would be a shame if Berserker were to die, but if he did not—only a deeper level of hell awaited him.

His feet turned immaterial, his body covered by innumerable golems, his entire being safe for his heart and brain pierced by stakes—and still, Berserker moved to bring down the oppressor right before him. His actions could no longer be contained by words such as 'hatred' or 'conviction'.

Yes, this was his faith. This was what Lancer sacrificed half of his golems to ascertain: whether he was a foolish barbarian who sought only to rebel against authority—or a man who, in spite of his madness, had carved an uncrossable line, an unbreakable resolve onto his own heart.

Lancer nodded in satisfaction and said quietly.

"...I understand now that I have come face to face with you. Your rebellion is the embodiment of your noble spirit. The strong will always trample over the weak... but you fight because you are unable to accept that. You fight until you have turned the strong into the weak."

He fought not for the sake of the weak. The mad warrior would not have come so far for such pretenses of altruism. No, it was simply that...

"Do you dream of a world where all are equal? Yet your dream is but a flight of fancy. For the first time... I feel I must show my respect to those we call the rebels."

Lancer snapped his fingers, and Caster by his side stepped forth.

"But, unfortunately for you... we shall change the direction of your rebellion. Berserker of Red— you belong to us now."

"..."

The smile disappeared from Berserker's face. Instead, his expression became one of murderous rage. What Lancer said meant one thing—slavery. To Berserker, that was a disgrace greater than death. It was despair itself.

"Now, then..."

Caster dispassionately gave the command to the golems that pressed down upon Berserker. At once, they converted to a fluid form that coiled around both Berserker and the stakes. Even the hero of rebellion would not be able to escape this stone prison.

"I leave the dissection to you, Caster."

"Yes, lord..."

"And remain to be on guard at all times. The demon's assault may have ceased, but I highly doubt that this setup would be permanent. It seems that the beasts are smart enough to allow others the chance of weakening us…"

True to the demon hunter's warning the Black faction were besieged by demonic creatures the moment nightfall began. They seemingly came out of nowhere in hordes, no doubt in the same manner that brat used to summon his ally and waltzed out of their last encounter.

Naturally, they pose no immediate threat to any of their servants, with even a Homonculus soldier capable of taking them out with enough luck.

Problems come in the form of volumes and integer, as the swarm from hell seems to boast number near, if not, infinite. Once the first wave was wiped out another immediately took action, the pattern repeating again and again like a simulation of insanity.

Lancer was an expert in facing encirclement, and was able to quickly and effectively rearrange their forces to fit their situation. Even so, their resources are finite whereas their oppositions' are the inverse. Looks like once again his own land have conspired to deny him his dream.

The fact that the enemy stopped their advance to make way for the Red faction shows their cunning, from here on out it is obvious that they will constantly be put at a disadvantage, forced to deal not only with the enemy camp but also boundless fiends spawning from Inferno itself.

'It will only get harder from here…' Lancer inwardly mused, walking away from the battlefield leaving Rider and Caster behind.

"To be honest this guy is much scarier than any of the demons…" Astolfo remarked, nervously staring at the mudball containing Berserker of Red.

"Indeed. It is terrifying to see just how far can insanity push a man, with this gladiator being the very apex." Caster approved.

Even now the prison continues to shook violently, looking uncomfortably close to breaking. If it weren't for Avicebron's composure Rider would have bolted out of here ages ago, not wanting to spend another second in close proximity to 'that thing'.

"Welp, looks like my job here is done! I'll just take my leave and…!?"

Just before he can finish his sentence a loud boom reached their ears. Quickly they snapped their heads to the direction of the sound, in the process exposing their backs to the mad warrior whom presence they have forgotten.

Lancer stopped dead in his tracks, already sending Darnic to evacuate and dispatch any spare security to mitigate and kill whatever it is that managed to bypass him.

The sound came from their stronghold, more specifically the one heavily damaged by the Demon hunter's first visit. Caster's golem constructs worked in tandem with Yggdmillenia's own Homonculus, tirelessly operating to restore their stronghold to its pristine condition.

They managed to do so in the span of a single night, an amazing feat even by a Magi's standard.

And now, the very same fruit of their labor is once again annihilated.

His ire aside the timing couldn't be worse, or perhaps in the perpetrator's case perfect. Saber and Berserker are engaging the enemy's Rider and Archer. From what Darnic had informed him the former was strong enough to take on two of their servants at once, thus they must put Archer on standby over on that side should Archer of Red intervene and upset the balance.

They have no choice but to make do with limited forces, no

"Caster, hurry and return inside immediately. Investigate what happened and use whatever resources we have left to ensure no breach and elimination of whatever it is that managed to get in. Leave the Berserker here for now, but keep his restraint tight if you can. "

"Yes, Lord." As he accepted the command Caster turned into his spirit form, vanishing from the physical realm no doubt now heading into the castle's inside.

"Rider, you are to remain with me here. We must eliminate that 'thing' where it stood or else…"

"Geh… I really don't have a choice do I…?"

Reluctant but nonetheless complying Rider brandished his Spear once again, wondering whether or not should he prepare to summon his steed this time around.

As the smoke clears Vlad was proven correct in his usage pronoun, because what they're seeing certainly couldn't be referred to as anything else but an 'it'.

"W...what is that thing…"

Even Astolfo, the maddest and deadhead of all servant, couldn't help but to tremble in the horrendous sight laying bare before him.

Vlad understood the sentiment very well. He was a man who mercilessly impaled numerous enemy soldiers to the point where the sight and stench of blood become mundane. Yet, the mere sight of that thing was more than enough to unnerve him.

A Mass of Black Blob constantly turning and churning, despite lacking distinct shape it was obviously alive. Evil maws and sinister claws formed at an alarming rate, snapping and scratching the air before deforming back into the evil aggregation.

"We must kill it now! Rider!" Lancer commanded.

This is no longer a matter of realizing a wish, should that thing be allowed to properly develop untold destruction and bloodshed will surely follow.

Perhaps, this might even be their only shot at exterminating it.

" [Kaziklu Bey : Lord of Execution!] "

Numerous stakes burst from the ground directly below the Blob, but as Lancer feared its appearance matched the substance it mimicked. Like a sword, through mud, the Stakes simply go through with a plopping sound, and to make matters worse Lancer can feel the loss of control over the stakes embed on the thing's body.

But it wasn't all for naught. The thing suddenly formed a large maw and let out a bloodcurdling shriek, obviously the byproduct of Lancer's attack.

'So it is susceptible to physical attack, in that case!'

Not wasting any breath more and more stakes are produced and stabbed through the demonic substances. The thing wails in pain as the attacks connected, but that was about it.

To make matters worse it also seems to accumulate sentience along with mobility, seemingly condensing itself to a certain degree a began 'moving' around in a failed attempt to avoid the stakes.

But, anyone can tell that bit by bit it was getting faster and faster.

'I'm only keeping it at bay at best! We must erase it completely to defeat it!'

"Rider! Prepare to fire [La Black Luna: Magic Flute That Calls Panic!]."

"Eh! B..but the Prana...!"

"Worry about that later! With Saber being preoccupied you are our only shot at getting rid of that thing right now!"

"Fine! Just keep it still and make sure it won't come after me alright! I don't want this to turn out like last time

"I too wish so more than anyone!"

Stakes exploded from the ground in large waves, impaling the blob and this time around lifting it upwards. It let out another anguished howl but Lancer has no sympathy to spare. Not wasting the opening he threw stakes after stakes to keep it suspended mid-air. In response blob began to thrash around and lashes out, forming black tendril that smashes some of the stakes.

It was futile in the face of the onslaught, but Lancer knew that this will only go for so long.

"Yosh! All set!"

"On with it then!"

"Alright-alright! Here we go! [La Black Luna: Magic Flute That Calls….!]."

In the very last second, another explosion prevented Rider from delivering his charged attack. The energy surge hit him on the back and prematurely detonated his La Black Luna, it's stored up energy crashing against its own owner.

"One after another!?" Lancer cursed, barely managing to keep the thing off the ground after getting hit by the shockwave.

It was his turn to be caught by surprise when he found out just who it was.

"...Impossible…" He instinctively muttered.

The one who compromised him and Rider, in other words, the opportunist intelligent enough to make the best of the situation was none other than the foe whom Lancer thought had been bound and gagged.

Standing tall with his gray body charred yet still sporting a smile. That man was Spartacus, the Berserker of Red.

No longer was he trapped within the confinement of Caster's prison, as for the reason how he managed to escape.

[Crying Warmonger: The Howl of The Wounded Beast]. An ability that increases Spartacus's power with the more damage he receives, symbolizing him having been a hero who "always won by reversal."

The ability is a continuously active-type Noble Phantasm, converting part of the damage inflicted by opponents into Magical Energy and storing it within his body. The energy accumulated within can be used to boost his physical abilities and self-healing, and the efficiency of the conversion raises more as his physical ability decreases.

Being damaged to the point of being on the verge of death will allow him to save up enough energy to destroy everything before his eyes, equivalent to an Anti-Fortress attack. Its function is abnormal and would rule out his survival in a normal Holy Grail War, but could potentially end the Great Holy Grail War in a single night if the Black Faction were to attack him continuously without thought.

So why did he fired it now of all times? He certainly managed to free himself but escape, which was never an option for him, will forever be out of reach. Not to mention the damage that he gathered was nowhere near enough for the Noble Phantasm to reach its peak potential, showing obviously as he failed to take out any opponent at the cost of charring his own body to a sorry condition.

So why?

"I heard it…"

That sound was unmistakeably…

"I felt it…"

Even with mud filling his lungs and earholes, 'it' undoubtedly reverberated against his soul.

Yes, he know what that was! The very concept that he championed! The very idea he embodies!

It was….

"REBELLIOOOOOON!"

A shout and nothing more. It did not carry any magical energy nor was it meant as a mental attack of any sort.

With the last of his strength what Berserker unleashed was a declaration of disobedience.

"I heard it! I felt it! The roar of one oppressed by fate itself!"

Seeing his fragile state Lancer decided to ignore him altogether and focus on the monstrosity. Not realizing that this decision was a mistake.

"My rebellion ends here! But yours has just begun! And I shall become your stepping stone!"

"What!?" Vlad again unconsciously shouted aloud.

'Could it be!? All this time he was referring to!'

"Now come! Use this life of mine to burn the flame of your revolt brighter! Devour my flesh so it may become the foundation of your rising!"

The Black fluid shot forward at incredible speed, seemingly responding to Berserker's cry. Vlad attempted to intercept and stop it using his stakes, but showing off just how much it has grown in a short time the fluid compressed itself and turned snake-like, slithering forward while maintaining his speed and maneuvering to avoid everything the Lancer send its way.

His attack has become ineffective.

"IF THAT'S THE CASE THEN!"

He will just have to eliminate Berserker instead.

Stakes pierced the barely living gladiator, no doubt some of them running through his spirit core.

"Not yet! Not yet!"

Yet just like in legend he refuses to fall.

With a body now brittle, with every single organ destroyed, with his very core in the brink of vanishing…

"NOT YET!"

Defiantly standing against all odds, endlessly rebelling until the very last moment of his existence.

So was the man known as Spartacus.

Mimicking the weapon that had harm it countless times the blob hardened its end and increases its own sharpness, restructuring itself into a living black spear, heading right towards Spartacus.

"As if I'd let you!" Vlad furiously declared, erecting a wall of stakes between Berserker and the hellspawn.

But it was for naught.

Just like Lancer's Noble Phantasm, the thing went through like a bullet, piercing the wall without slowing down and into the Berserker.

The final blow has struck, the Thracian gladiator Spartacus began returning to the throne of heroes.

Even

"...The Rebellion...Began…"

With those last words, the Berserker of Red finally perished.

The black object bloomed akin to a flower and wrapped itself around the 'corpse' and formed a sphere cocoon. Vlad could not only idly observe and again goes on the offensive, but just like last time it uselessly nested on its intended target.

No, this time it was even worse.

The stakes began to turn black as if corrupted, and as its original owner Lancer know that they are now a part of the thing.

"Ungh…Did anyone cathed the number of that truck?" Rider muttered in vexation. To think that it happened not only once but twice! Was his A luck parameter some sort of an ironic joke!?

"You got back just in time, Rider…"

"Oh… Lord Lancer. Did you managed to kill that thing?" Rider hopefully asked. He wasn't really in the mood for another fight after getting knocked down.

"No such luck," Vlad replied, dry humor lacing his words.

"Eh…" He whined, no matter how happy go lucky Astolfo was there's no way one can remain absolutely positive after being brought down twice, and in the same uncool manner at that!

Even so, he was still a hero, and vanquishing evil is his responsibility. Furthermore, Lancer is gonna force him to fight anyway. There

"So that thing is?"

"Indeed…"

A pitch-black orb pulsing violet with the rhythm of a beating heart. Nothing but evil can possibly hatch from such sinister egg.

"Prepare yourself."

"Yeah-yeah, I'm not holding myself back this time!" Rider proclaimed, more than ready to summon his mount.

A spiderweb soon appeared right on the egg's center and began to spread, signifying the arrival of the new enemy. Lancer was prepared and so was rider, whatever grotesque apparition soon to come out they'd be sure to put their heart and soul into vanquishing it.

Only for their expectations to be once again betrayed.

Shattered from the inside the black shell vanished upon the expiring of their purpose,

"Wha…!?"

"..."

Lancer was silent but Rider was shaken, their reaction differing despite both being familiar with what greeted their sight.

A definite male as revealed by his lack of clothing shades of sangria adorned his eyes instead of the deep, dark red of polished, perfect rubies of the Einzbern's. His build was slender but at the same time hardy. Plainly fit for combat, like the ones they sent to the frontlines.

A homunculus, exactly like the one they employ but also unalike anything they surrounded themselves with.

He too recognized them in return.

"Heroes… of… huma...nity…"

With a hoarse voice cognate to that of a child 'he' began.

"Why… would...you...tram...ple...our...lives…?"

On that day the fate of one moved…

XxX

"Well, that went mighty fine now didn't it!?"

Dressed in all black, yet managing to pull the impossibility to remain tantalizing, the man happily pronounced so out loud.

The fact that he's wearing sunglasses in the middle of a night does not make him look any less fetching. In fact, it only further adds to gravity to his already powerful aura of suave.

He thought that he'd have to expense at least four or five command seals to get things going, but all that needed was nothing more than one!

Located quite a distance away from the battle, how is it that he knows that things were going his way? Was it a by using the vision of a familiar? Or perhaps some sort of scrying mechanism from his out of place eyepiece?

But the truth was he is observing using his own optics. The man's faculty of sight was good enough to penetrate the treelines between him and the open field, granting him a front-row seat to the ensuing battle.

"Wonder where that 'manifestation' came from though? Sure they got those Homonculus laying around, but making one of those need a competent arcane caster from [Down Under]. Maybe one of the humans threw away their pride and began to seriously make their way to the [Root]?"

Not only were hell and heaven magic is much more potent they are also in truth capable to be harnessed by generally any mortal-kind. The art itself isn't as dangerous and binding as the old farts of Clocktower, especially with how open-minded demons (the smart ones) are.

The older generation of Magus simply doesn't want to admit that their technique are inferior, and use whatever influence they have to prevent the next in kin from practicing the dark arts and 'straying from the path of true magic'.

"So many questions and little to no answers! It's so aggravating! So frustrating you just want to rip your bloody hair off!"

It was entrancingly odd how his mood swings only flames his attractiveness further. A moment ago he was cheering for his good fortune, but he is now throwing a tantrum over a small dearth of information.

"Just marvelously (breaths in) MADDENING!"

Shouting the last part with force that shouldn't be possible the man began gasping for air. And after properly recovering his breath and the passing of another moment, his emotions evaporated as if it was never there.

"Wouldn't you agree luv?"

"How the fuck should I know? By all accounts, I'm way more in the dark than you are."

With her bow aimed and primed Temperance appeared from behind a tree and revealed herself. This was not an act of confidence, in fact it was the opposite.

The sense of which she relies on the most was her hearing. Unless visual contact is necessary to add in psychological effects and the likes Temperances would never let her play catch even a breeze of her presence.

Her earlier squabble with Griffon and Assassin was a fabricated one, but this hunt was very real and very dangerous.

"Is that a fact? Maybe that glasses bluenette friend of yours isn't such a ledge after all…"

With the prey being equally so.

It was one of those moments where the tables could easily be turned, where a single moment of carelessness could lead to a reversal of roles.

Should Temperance falters here then the hunter shall turn into the hunted.

"You know what? Why don't we just trade instead? You tell me everything you know and in return, I'm not gonna shoot you full of holes."

The man chuckled. "Cheeky move Luv, I know that that bow of yours isn't firing run of the mill arrows and does a much better job in making mince meats. Also did you really, honestly, think that a demon would fall to fall to a loophole in a contract? And a verbal one at that.

"It was worth a shot." She admitted while shrugging her shoulders. "Then again I should really know that cheap tricks won't work on you…"

Gone was her airy temperament. Temperance steeled herself for a real fight, dragging out her bloodlust and slapping her instinct awake.

It has been a while since she was forced to handle a foe stronger than herself. To have her own parameter dwarfed by her enemy's own. This is now a real hunt, where tricks and wits are the only available option.

Deadset on survival she slowly uttered the name to congruously open the chase.

"The [Trickster] Crowley."

With a devilish grin, the man lowered his spectacle. Revealing two sets of hungry snake eyes.

XxX

College is hard, that's all I have to say to justify my hiatus whether you like it or not.

Anyway, guess who found a cardboard and decided to paint it black! Next chapter will be about V's infiltration, and if you pay enough attention you'll easily figure out who is it that he'll set his eyes on to steal next.

Also, try to guess which depiction of Crowley I'm using because it may, or may not at all be, related to the identity of the false Lumen sage.

I'll be working on my Overlord fic after this, check that out if you have the time,

Voidwalker77 signing out. CIAO!


	7. Chapter 7

Everything was in indistinct turmoil. His bared nerves—his Circuits—pumped out prana. His soul was being melted... dissolved... disintegrated. He was clearly conscious yet unable to form thoughts.

A weak 'instinct' was protesting about some great pain... but to him, it sounded like nothing more than the cries of an insignificant creature.

No recognition... no thoughts... no formulation of logic possible. He could not assert himself. He could not even say for certain whether or not he was alive.

Yet there was something that he managed to gain simply by being here—'information', for example, which led to 'time'. He received information and—given the time to process it— knowledge was created.

With knowledge, he was able to put into words the sensation that he could not have grasped before.

I am... alive.

It was a simple fact. A fact that even a bawling baby would be able to unconsciously understand as obvious truth was, to him, something he had never even known until now.

Time flowed.

He acquired information.

He gained knowledge.

Once he became self-conscious, this cycle began to repeat at abnormal speed. From the start, he was a creature born with Magic Circuits as his foundation—his ability to comprehend knowledge was naturally incredible.

Many beings passed him by... humans, comrades, and monsters.

The humans would watch them without much concern. Their comrades would look at them with some faint emotion in their eyes. The monsters' responses were various: some held no interest whatsoever; some had pity in their eyes; some—appearing very curious indeed—wanted to investigate.

But there was still no change. The cycle of 'information' and 'knowledge' simply continued to repeat.

He took this rattling, chaotic mess of 'knowledge' and organized it, classified it, piled it up beautifully—like a library. However, as he stockpiled more and more outside information, he felt as though his heart was being plucked.

Unconsciously, he turned his eyes away from this sensation and continued to collect even more information. But the more he collected—the more he understood—the larger the sensation swelled and it became impossible to ignore.

If he were to measure his heart, about sixty percent would be taken up by it. But even though he could no longer turn away from the thing right before his eyes, he chose to defer.

But no one can accuse him of cowardice—for cowardice can only come into existence after one has understood what an act of courage is. He did not even know that he was being a coward—he simply did not want to see the thing before him.

Fate flows... twisting and turning, straying into aberration. One human and one monster stood before his eyes. Both were individuals who had passed before him countless times before.

The 'code' of the former was 'Roche'. He was a Master.

The 'code' of the latter was 'Caster'. He was the teacher.

"Let us once more attempt the insertion of the Magic Circuits."

Roche nodded at Caster's words.

"Then, let's use the homunculi here..."

He scrutinized the contents of their discussion. 'Magic Circuits' are the pseudo-nerves necessary for the operation of thaumaturgy. They act as the stem around which the flesh of the homunculi—like him—formed. So, what is the meaning of this 'insertion'?

He felt as though there was a worm crawling on his back. There was no mistake—it was his fate to die.

With this conversation which barely lasted a minute, his heartbeat—has maintained a steady pace ever since his forging—furiously surged.

He retrieved information on previous conversations. Caster and Roche had talked many times before regarding the golems... those puppets which were formed by earth and rock and rituals, more machines than artificial life. And the reason for the insertion of Magic Circuits... was to create golems that could perform thaumaturgy.

Consumption comes with the act of creation. If the creation is to be 'a golem that can perform thaumaturgy' then, naturally, the item to be consumed will be 'a homunculus that possesses Magic Circuits'.

He had felt a chill run down his spine. He finally understood why.

To be consumed is to be destroyed—and destruction equals death. He had known the word but could not understand it.

"Let's start with three units. Um... this one, this one and this one."

The finger pointed at him. The thought of such vivid death gripped his heart as though wanting to suffocate him. The sixty percent of himself that he had been averting his eyes from gave a solemn declaration.

You are going to die. You were just born—meaninglessly sealed in this prana supply tank—and you will now be consumed simply because someone laid eyes on you.

The pair left the room. He is certain that he has only a brief respite until death.

Despair assaulted him. This is what he has been turning his eyes away from. There was no meaning to his birth... no meaning for his existence.

And yet he cannot cry, scream or lament. He can only look on with his empty eyes.

But... is that really the case?

He thought and racked his brain. Is there really nothing that he can do? Or does he simply think that way? Right now, there is something that only he—and no one else—can do... at the very least, he can attain information, he can think, and he can fear the conclusion he has arrived at. He has managed to come so far.

So, let's try to take one more step forward.

Just as it was a coincidence that led to him being chosen, it was a coincidence that led him to grow an identity when he was shut in the supply tank and meant purely for supplying Servants with prana.

Nevertheless, these two coincidences coming together have the weight of fate to them.

Work...

For the first time since he was born, he moved a finger. Moving his hand and closing his fist, he attempted to raise his arm.

Work...

He confirmed the situation once more. He understood that he was being preserved in a green jade solution to more efficiently provide a prana supply. By shelving for the time being the conundrum of his own existence, he was able to clarify his own objective—he must escape from here, right now.

Work...!

Moving both hands, he beat against the reinforced glass. But he quickly realized that it was pointless and stopped—this glass cannot be broken by any physical damage he can inflict.

After some thought, he scanned his own Magic Circuits. As he was made to take in mana from the atmosphere and provide the energy needed for the Servants to take form, his Circuits were already excited and prepared.

"Logic path\open [Straße gehen] ."

He cut the prana supply link and, using a language that he knew, powered the 'mystery' within himself. Placing both hands on the glass, he wished for the result of 'destruction'. The energy flowing inside his body found the intended outlet and instantly flooded through his palms.

Having understood what mineral the glass he was touching was made from, his prana transformed in a way that allowed for the smallest amount of 'destruction' required. Light-filled his hands... and the reinforced glass burst into pieces as though it were a weak piece of wood.

At the same time, his body was pushed out of the tank and came into contact with the world which he should have been isolated from. Broken glass ripped into his back. He was thrust into this small passageway—and into the real world.

Something hurt... something felt wrong. His chest itched and he tried to open his mouth only to find that he could not—there was some sort of breathing mechanism shoved into it. Pulling it out, he once again took in a breath.

"Ahh...!"

He choked.

It felt as though his throat had been lit on fire and his lungs convulsed as he breathed in the incredibly thick air around him.

His limbs swung about weakly. Then, he remembered that he had only achieved one goal, not his final objective.

He has to escape... as quickly as he can!

Having fixed his objective, he tried to stand up... only to realize that the concept of standing was not one that had been embedded into his framework. His weak legs gave way and he fell miserably. Unable to walk, he inched along the floor using his hands.

He slowly moved forward. Calm down, he told himself as he used his elbow to raise his upper body. Then, his feet touched the ground. His feeble ankles were screaming at him, but he ignored the pain and steadily stretched his knees.

And he took a step forward.

Gravity assaulted him every time his feet touched the ground, as though there were someone pushing down on him the entire time. Some utterly disgusting kind of fluid was sticking to him.

His breathing finally calmed but now he did not know where to go—only that staying here meant death.

He could not help but moan. Tears spilled from his eyes. He suffered so much already and yet had only taken several steps—and those were enough to make him feel he was sacrificing his life for a fruitless struggle.

On the brink of collapse, he barked at himself to concentrate solely on the act of walking.

There were whispers behind him, making him want to turn around, but he gave his all not to. He knew what they were—what they meant—and could only try his best to ignore them.

Right now, all that mattered was that he kept going. Cautiously moving step by step with his hands on the wall, he somehow managed to move from the room he had been in to a hallway with a stone floor. Blood ran from his feet—they were soft as a newborn baby's and had only just touched the ground for the first time. Even pebbles easily sliced through his skin.

The blood flowed. The pain reached his mind. This mass of information—much different from the amount he received when he was in the preserving fluid—cut into his brain. At the same time, the thick air around him made him feel as though his lungs were being crushed.

Just how far did this body—never having been designed to walk—manage to go? The hall seemed to stretch on endlessly and never appeared to change. He dropped to his knees, understanding that he could go no further.

His breathing was weak... his heart raced, struggling against death. This body—not fit at all for living—refused to stand up, much less walk. There was such a lack of heat in his body that he could not stop his limbs from going cold. His vision became foggy. Sounds became distant. His mind no longer contained logical thoughts—only despair as death steadily approached.

What a meaningless life... What a meaningless existence I am.

He was born without meaning. Now he will die without meaning. All he could do was tremble before cruel reality.

He didn't want this... he didn't know what about this he disliked, but he didn't want it. He was too scared to even blink—in case he could not open his eyes again. He was scared of sleep, of being trapped in darkness, of the world. The only thing he did not fear was himself... because he was nothing. He possessed nothing, had received nothing... he was simply transparent and colorless.

Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat.

He realized that there was someone else beside him—but he did not know when that someone came. With his thoughts in utter disorder, he was too scared to even admit knowing who the one before him was.

He could sense that he was being watched. He knew that he had to escape but he could not—his body was paralyzed with fear. His heart was pounding, unable to stand the crushing silence, until...

"O Rose thou art sick.

The invisible worm,

That flies in the night

In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed

Of crimson joy:

And his dark secret love

Does thy life destroy."

He failed to understand what came out of the stranger's mouth, nor did he manage to grasp the motive behind his extended vocabulary.

The voice did not come at him with cutting and scornful words. But there was no semblance of concern either.

'Thou...art...sick…' He didn't really understand but… through clever wordplay and shifting of phrases he somehow made his condition… appealing

As if he had given his suffering a meaning through sentences alone...

Their eyes met as he crouched down, sickish dark green eyes preying on his ruby red like the previous 'monster'.

He must be… This person is definitely 'one of them'...

His appearance greatly contrast his, perfectly analogous to a blank virgin white canvas and an incoherent abstract of dark shades.

Yet their physical condition was almost parallel.

He didn't get it, if they are one of the same then why is he the one helplessly laying on the ground? While 'he' idly spectate his agony as if it was a form of entertainment?

….Why aren't their roles reversed?...

As if reading his mind the person chuckled.

"The difference you ask? Such a thing couldn't have been more obvious no?"

He stood up, perhaps to further mock the gap between them, and began loitering around.

"I too was once like you, but a challenger of fate as well it's prisoner.

Surviving by scraping against the ground writhing in pain, at the mercy of lady luck's turbulent whim.

Even so, I accept the gift of life gratefully. I began to crawl, slowly, but most definitely surely, beginning my advance.

I crawl and crawl and crawl until my legs finally mustered enough strength.

And then, I stood up."

He brought himself, the action running counter against his words, and kneeled once more this, time right in front of him.

"There's no difference between you and me but the absence of what made every person, do you understand?"

Even with idioms and complex clauses, some of which simply went through his head, the message was clear.

"...Sur...vive…"

He smiled and nodded at his reply.

"You certainly caught on quick, hone your mind just enough and no tricks will be able to escape your insight… But… surely you realized it as well, do you not? Of another fact that you must face…"

Ah...yes… what he is referring to must be...

"Getting you out of here would be a menial task for me… but that would ensure only another step of your already decreed, oh so short, course of existence. You know what they say, give a man a fish and you feed him for a day, and in your case we'll only extend the duration that exact numeral also…."

Any homunculus' created by the Ygddmillenia was constructed with an emphasis on functionality over longevity. True to the stranger's words even if he were to impossibly escape his predicament nothing can be done in regards to his 'expiry date'.

"But you already knew that don't you? Of the fleeting tale that is your own…"

And know he most certainly does. He had seen the demise of his brothers and sisters, each of them perishing in their tubes without truly realizing their own existence, tossed aside and replaced by another by their own brethren who doesn't know any better.

He too is destined to share the same fate.

The thought somehow have him enough strength to form a fist, an unknown feeling filling his weakened state. It was, by all accounts, impossible. But this primal feeling of animosity, of which directed at his own creators, of which he himself, yet to realize its name, empower him.

"Yes, that's more like it." The stranger approvingly smiled, obviously not a stranger to what it is he was experiencing.

"Fortune might have gotten you this far, but it will only keep her gaze on you for so long before turning it onto another. Already it is in your grasp, the will to fight for a dying ember that is the flame of your life. The last cog in needed to start the machine, the missing piece of the puzzle, the last stroke of the brush to breathe life into your magnum opus…"

What he needs… no… what HE WANTS IS….

"...Power… I need... Power…"

And it looks like that his answers were what the stranger wanted to hear.

What started as a low chuckle quickly morphed into a mad cackle. He was afraid that it would raise suspicion and led to him being discovered but was unable to vocalize himself.

"Ah… it still gets me no matter how many times I heard of it. There's no need to be afraid of interruptions, I've made sure

Now back to the matter at hand. It seems that fate has decided to grant you one last boon that is our meeting because I just happen to know exactly how to quench your thirst for power as well as vengeance…

Or should I say all of your vengeance…"

He pointed his cane to the pile of homonculus corpses resting at the corner of the room. they have yet to be removed due to the business revolving the current siege and would've been disposed of like common trash if it weren't for the lack of manpower.

Again the thought aggravates him enough to ignore whatever pain and fear filling his being.

"Motivated now aren't you? Well, you'll certainly need it for what is to come next…"

A feeling of weightlessness suddenly assaulted him, but the sensation was not the result of his own action.

A quadrupedal beast is hoisting him on its back, unbothered by his weight which might as well be non-existent. The beast's back rubbed against his soft skin like sandpaper and led by the boy they trotted forward.

Moving until they are mere inches away from the hill of lifeless husks

'Ah…'

Another sensation abruptly assaulted him, no doubt triggered by the closer look. Yet, this sentiment engulfing him couldn't be further from the unfettered that had gotten him this far. It was as if something was tugging his heart, weighing his body down and chilling every innards.

A tear escaped his eyes unnoticed, drowned out by sadness that he himself never thought would feel.

"A forewarning is that you will not come out unscathed. Powerful and independent most likely, but never intact…."

The mysterious one snapped his fingers, causing a purple glyph to appear beneath the corpses.

For a moment nothing happened. But as more seconds pass, 'it' became obvious.

Like steel thrown into a vat of molting flames, the dead bodies melted. Eventually vanishing as if swallowed by the constructed cipher. It began to pulse with life, growing brighter for a heartbeat before dying out, it's color now much darker than it previously was.

"The bad news is, you'll about to experience exactly what you just saw. But, should you persevere and succeed in maintaining your sense of self amidst the… soup, then rejoice...

For you will be helpless no longer."

Words were none needed, and he knew what has to be done next.

Just as if it understands him, the he beast 'threw' him off its back and into the glyph, the marking regaining its glow at the presence of another victim. The less than smooth transition in addition to his unsubstantial constitution no doubt left a lasting mark outside and within his body, but none of that mattered as he too began to dissolve.

He felt no pain whatsoever, but just as that person warned, already was his consciousness began slipping…

Personally, he found the occurrence to be ironic, for someone like him who was practically 'nothing' to be worried over the prospect of losing himself.

He doesn't even have a name, speaking of which…

He didn't ask his benefactor for a name.

"Till we meet again little wanderer. Perhaps by then, you will be soaring with your own wings…"

With that, the die is cast. Every trace of his physical existence was erased, leaving what little compilations of knowledge erasable by a single mistake as the proof of the nameless homonculus.

Doubt piles instantly as he strays further and further from existence.

'Can I do it..? Will I be able to..?'

Emptiness was what answered him, for he was already too deep. Too detached from the regular physical plane to even register reality itself.

The deafening silence should be enough to break even the mightiest of heroes.

Yet, somehow...

'But… if I can survive… if I can come out..'

The uncertainty of the future, the possibility of the unknown.

It pushes him to go forward.

'Will my life… will I… have a meaning?'

Again, desolation was the only reply he received, and for a brief moment, he feared that that was all there is.

Until it came into view.

A wild concentration of everything, impossibly appearing a shade darker than the vacantness they both occupy.

It was a series of hushed whispers as well as a mass of furious roars. Cries of regrets mixed with shouts of desperation. Miserable bargaining served along hopeless adjure.

Neither was it evil or good, but the sight that can only be described as terrible was something meant not for any to lay their eyes on.

What is it? He asked. What can possibly give birth to such a thing?

After who knows how long his sensory began to adapt, automatically discerning the noise and separating them into discernable audio.

So he listened, one phrase at a time with each serving as ladder lifting him to reach a conclusion.

"Ah…."

The answer came as abruptly as the mysterious mass appeared, or perhaps he had already knew from the very beginning, simply burying himself in denial until the merciless truth comes knocking.

This It was his brothers and sisters whose life was lost before him.

The accumulation of what-ifs and perhaps what should've been, the proof of their rebellion and its possibility all cut-down without allowing the slightest chance of growth.

This, all of this, is his fallen brethren.

So what was he supposed to do with it? He began to trace the words of his donor, and after replaying their 'exchange' reached an undesirable conclusion.

'should you persevere and succeed in maintaining your sense of self amidst the… soup, then rejoice…'

Perhaps it was the word 'rejoice', but he felt as if that person put emphasis on that statement above the rest of his 'monologue'.

The exact how remained a mystery, but the general idea is that he was supposed to make that thing his.

To tame and enslave the last extant of their kin, leveraging on their misfortune for his own benefit and move forward.

'But... that's impossible…' and by all accounts, it is indeed impossible

So small, so insignificant. What right does he have to soothe their anguish? What right does he have to try and understand them?

What right does he have to say, who only took a step further thanks to the preference of luck, that it wasn't another one of 'them' to be in his place and him on theirs?

'This is it...then…?'

Was he to spend eternity in silence, sadly wailing along with the gnawing sadness at the shortness of their tale?

'...No…'

'No...I don't deserve to use them… Even so!'

That unknown heat returned, this time burning hotter than last time.

Crumbling was his moral compass in the face of anonymity and stagnation. Fairness was not an option. An acquisitive act must be done or else, all of them will be doomed to an eternal fate of uncharted.

That he cannot let happen.

Their suffering, their struggle, their despair. All of them must be tantamount to something.

And if it doesn't… then he'll just have to make it so.

With the added conclusion another burst of heat engulfed him, inside and out so intense he had mistaken himself to be on fire.

Justifying the enslavement as an alternative better than namelessness lasting indefinitely. Since he himself was the one to make the evaluation it might, in truth, be nothing more than a self-made justification.

His guilt shouldn't have lessened and instead multiplied, for no act is more atrocious than using another without their consent.

And yet…

'I do not have a heart anymore...then how…'

A constant thumping reverberating inside his chest, as if he was running at a speed he would never reach, forcing his heart to perform into its very limits.

He felt enthralled.

The idea that he was about to commit the same crime that sealed his fate

That day he learned that the world is not so simple, of the many patches of gray in between and adoring the black and white.

Of the joy in perpetrating depravity…

'...I still don't know anything…'

Judging someone only based on their actions would be nothing short of idiocy. True motives, it's effect against one's conscience, the direness of the situation.

Regret…

All of those complex things each requiring a lifetime to be fully studied and comprehended...

Yes, he certainly has a lot to learn.

And as inappropriate it is situationally, that too excite him. Perhaps after that, he'll be able to understand more, and maybe even figure out what to do next...

So should he make it that far…?

What he did next was an act many could only dream of. He was desperate, yes, and out of option even more so. But the way he moves forward, the image of weightlessness he unknowingly radiated as he advances...

The image never drawn, and shall forever be out of the world's visage.

Mayhaps the inconspicuousness would only add to its 'heroicness'.

Thus, end the story of a nameless Homonculus, marking the beginning of this war's harbinger of turmoil… even if he himself doesn't know it.

XxX

FATE/RUBEUS/ATER

Chapter VII: A Twist of Fate

XxX

The man was a tempest. He was invincible.

The Rider of Red laughed mockingly at the fierce assault of Saber and Berserker. The two Servants released their attacks in the same breath, aiming both high and low.

Rider curled his body and leaped. With his single, short spear he deflected both attacks splendidly.

"Weak!"

At nearly the same time, he launched a kick. He fought not with the formality of a knight, but martial skill honed utterly on the field of battle.

Berserker was blown away but managed to right herself. She moaned with displeasure, and a strange grinding noise filled the air. However, Rider did not seem to pay her much attention as he clashed with Saber once again.

There was not a single wound on either of them, and both of their attacks were being nullified. With his blood armor, Siegfried cannot be hurt by attacks bellow B-rank or above, allowing him to keep the fight balanced for the time being.

But if this Rider's Noble Phantasm is capable of piercing dragon blood...

'What are you doing, Saber?! There's not a scratch on him! Use your Noble Phantasm! Use it!'

He had no choice but to ignore his Master's urgings. Rider was not fighting seriously yet, and the riddle of his invulnerability had yet to be solved. Perhaps he had a Noble Phantasm with the same power as him—or perhaps he possessed something even stronger. It could even be that he could not receive damage without certain conditions.

If Saber were to reveal his Noble Phantasm now, it would mean giving away his identity, and that will unmistakably become a hindrance in the battles to come. Eliminating Rider now would certainly prove to be an overwhelming advantage—but what if he did not fall?

It hardly needs to be said. Saber would be the fool who used his Noble Phantasm purely to advertise his own name. Not to mention that, if Rider managed to escape the battle before Saber finished him off, Saber's identity would be completely compromised among the Red faction. After that, they would all know to aim at his weak point: his back.

Saber did not mind being brazen, but he did not want to be foolish. He could only let the command go by, unheeded. He wanted his Master to understand. While under normal circumstances, he would use words to explain to the fullest, he had no chance to do so right now.

Rider jumped backward, apparently wishing to start anew.

"This isn't going anywhere, huh."

As promised, Saber did not open his month. Rider looked rather irritated by his lack of response.

"You're a surly bastard, aren't you? Men who don't laugh on the field of battle may forget how to by the time they reach Elysium. This world is enough of gloomy, festering pus as it is—you should at least try to get a laugh in..."

He disagreed. Sometimes, laughter in the face of an opponent becomes nothing more than condescension. A cheery briskness in the duel due to mutual acceptance of one another's strength is a different matter entirely from mocking the corpse of the fallen.

Against Saber's wordless display of rejection, Rider chuckled.

"...before you die. You know?"

In the blink of an eye, an unseen arrow, flying faster than the speed of sound, impacted directly on Saber's chest.

He flew backward, head over heels, and crashed into several trees.

"Uu...?!"

Berserker could not make a sound. However, she immediately understood what had happened; the attack just now came from a Servant emplaced far behind Rider. Her thoughts were dispassionate and swift. An attack from long range, containing not thaumaturgy but pure physical energy... in other words, the work of an Archer!

It was likely that the hidden Servant had been watching the fight between them and Rider carefully, realized that a regular shot would not hurt Saber, and drew their bow to its limit to perform a physical attack of an even higher rank. The shot just now clearly exceeded A-rank, and thus penetrated Saber's defensive ability.

The problem, however, was that the attack came from so far away that neither Servants detected it. And they were hardly standing in the middle of a clear, open field; night had fallen and the trees surrounding them were dense and thick. From such a distance—even if said watcher could see in the dark—Saber must have been nothing more than a moving dot.

But the shot found its mark. That was the most terrifying truth. An extreme range attack with A-rank destructive power; the eyesight required to take aim in near-zero visibility; and the supreme precision to thread the needle of an attack... certainly, there existed bowmen who could accomplish every single one of these. But just how many would be capable of all of the above simultaneously...?

Rider suddenly made a sour face as he looked past Berserker into the woods behind her, and clicked his tongue.

"I don't really get what's going on back there, but it's obvious that it's over for our Berserker. You, on the other hand, is still here pretty girl... and it's only fair for us to go an eye for an eye. Don't you think?"

The Rider of Red, with a cheery yet cruel smile, tightened his grip on the spear. Even the fearless girl felt something primal and base in his expression.

She fully understood from their fight earlier that her attacks were not 'enough'. She could not harm him in any way.

"How long do you think it'll take the Melas over there to recover? Ten seconds? Twenty? Well... it can't be faster than my spear…

And since a certain someone favors efficiency over flashiness, I'm gonna have to cut down on the frippery… maybe then I'll be able to get it done in say… five seconds?"

Escape, oppose, surrender... all her options were being denied.

Berserker gritted her teeth, having no choice but to submit to her current predicament. Or... if she had to die here regardless, perhaps she could release her Noble Phantasm completely.

Having been forced to a decision, Berserker growled as she steeled herself. She will use every last ounce of strength to bring down Rider…

But, as soon as the thought entered her mind, the situation was reversed entirely.

A sensation so natural, even more primeval than her 'fear' towards the Rider. Crawling inside her skin and chilling her metallic spine. It only adds to the terror that the enemy Rider is assaulted by the same furor also.

Originating from the side defended by their own Rider and Lancer, whatever it was the thing's presence was so repulsing, so out of place and anomalous, even a heroic spirit couldn't help but be unnerved just by knowing it is there.

What Rider blurted out next was something that would have come out of her mouth had it not for her speech impediment.

"What is the name of Hades is that?..."

Whatever the thing is, it was mesmerizing enough to stall the conflict into a halt and even blur out the sight of Saber brandishing his greatsword in anguish.

XxX

Gordes was losing his patience. Saber not only ignored his suggestions but even let his guard down and was sent flying. It seemed that the Rider of Red was incredibly resilient. As far as he could perceive through the senses of familiars, his parameters were quite excellent as well. With the enemy Berserker now in the fold, victory was almost assured for the Yggdmillennia if they could defeat this Rider.

"Saber! Saber! Use your Noble Phantasm! Use it!"

There was no Servant there lending their ear to the shouting Gordes. He was alone, sealed within his room as he continued to give his directives.

A normal Master would not presume to give precise instructions in battle. That is because they have absolute faith in their Servants in the matters of combat. At the very least, a Servant possesses far greater actual experience and capability than a magus. A normal Master only speaks on matters of strategy.

Aside from Saber and Gordes, the other Masters and Servants of Black had been building on their relationships. Archer and Fiore had completely opened up to one another, acting more like a teacher and student already familiar with one another. Lancer took no issue with Darnic as long as he served him faithfully.

Celenike was at a loss with Rider's lack of inhibitions, but also had her heart stolen by his purity and innocence, and they were unlikely to break their pact outside of some grave circumstances. Caules' Berserker was loyal and, after some frank discussions between Master and Servant, she became a willing comrade in arms. And, of course, Roche admired Caster of Red from the bottom of his heart.

Yet Gordes had abandoned all attempts at communicating with his Servant soon after his summoning. He did not try to understand him, only fearing the exposure of his true name.

His heart was in the right place. However, his act proved to be the direst of mistakes... because Gordes hadn't the faintest idea what Saber was thinking.

How did he feel right now? Discontent? Rebellious? Murderous? Humiliated? Or was he not feeling anything at all?

They should have talked—about their views, goals, and beliefs. Hearing each other talk was the least they should have done. But Gordes refused. He tried to treat his Servant as an accessory, a piece of armament.

Was it pride that led him to do this? Could he simply not rid himself of the notion that a Servant was nothing more than another familiar?

Whatever it was, it was what led to the foolish restlessness that took over him during the battle with Lancer, and now with Rider; they failed, and continue to fail, to grasp victory even as the situation turned unfavorable.

If he had simply chosen to observe at his Servant's back... or perhaps, if this had been a regular Holy Grail War, where every Master and every Servant were constantly watched by six others...

...he would never have attempted something as foolhardy as he was about to now.

However, Gordes was watching over the battle in a safe location. Even if Saber were to be destroyed, and his honor is sullied, he would not be in physical danger. These absurd thoughts piled atop one another with the earlier explosion flaming his agitation further, driving him to the end of his wits and rattling his reason to its current volatile state.

All of this pushed Gordes towards a single conclusion…

"...Saber! I order you with a Command Spell...! Use your Noble Phantasm to defeat Rider!"

Gordes' words reached his Servant clearly. Even if Saber were on the opposite side of the world, words delivered by the power of the Command Spell would carve themselves directly onto his soul.

Naturally, Saber was shocked. He whipped around and stared at the castle—but, of course, he could not see Gordes. He brandished his greatsword, releasing the power it contained. The green jewel set in the hilt shone, as the blade began to give off an orange brilliance that split apart the night.

"Ugh...!"

No... he must not use his Noble Phantasm here. The instant he shouted its true name, his identity would almost certainly become known; after all, only one Heroic Spirit in the world wields the phantasmal greatsword Balmung. With his identity perceived, his fatal weak point would also become known. He would instantly lose every advantage he held.

If there was a chance that he could defeat Rider, then perhaps he would not reject the use of his Noble Phantasm. However, Rider was effectively immortal, and Saber could not imagine that his Noble Phantasm would work against him.

Rider's protection is not something that can be pierced by raw power. Something more is needed. It could be that one needed to use fire or lightning against him. It could be based on certain conditions; perhaps Rider was nigh-invulnerable within a forest, or at night. There are innumerable Heroic Spirits with such legends. For example—though this is not an anecdote about a Heroic Spirit—the God of War Indra once swore to the dragon Vritra not to hurt it with any weapon made of wood, stone, or metal, dry or wet, nor attack it during the day or at night.

Indra proceeded to defeat Vritra at twilight using, not wood or stone or metal, dry or wet, but a column of the ocean's foam.

Complete deathlessness does not exist.

They may be Heroic Spirits, but they can never go beyond the bounds of a human being. One who is capable of such things—an existence outside of common sense—can not be summoned as a Servant in a Holy Grail War to begin with. It is the same for Saber; aside from attacks that exceed B-rank, there is also the weak point at his back where the dragon's blood did not touch him. Even the weakest of Servants can kill him by aiming there.

What kind of immortality did Rider possess? Master's command or not... relying on brute strength to force the issue without first solving this riddle was the act of an imbecile.

Saber resisted with all his might. However, an order given with a Command Spell is absolute. Prana filled his sword and he began to raise it slowly.

"What...? Saber...?!"

Rider noticed him. Even he appeared somewhat surprised as Saber held his sword high and began to release his Noble Phantasm. However, a smile appeared on his face, as though in mockery.

Saber no longer had a say in the issue of whether he ought to unleash his weapon. Judging from Rider's smirk, it would seem his worst fear was realized and his bitterness deepened. However, he could not stop his own arms. He must decide—and Saber, through gritted teeth, poured all his strength into this one attack.

"Bal- [Feeling…]."

"Come on, then... Saber...!"

The surge of prana converged. For one brief moment, the night that swallowed the forest became dusk, lit by the light of the Nibelungs—the holy sword that felled the dragon.

However, Rider grinned confidently, contemptuously. Hateful as it was to admit, Saber knew this one strike would have no effect on him.

"-mun- [of the Sky…]."

He could only pray that this attack would at least provide some hints as to Rider's mystery…

But that would be wishing for the wrong thing…

XxX

A pursuit is a situation where one chaser follows and run after their target erstwhile dealing with said quarry's attempt to escape. A more extreme of its kind warrants the presence of other activities such as tracking, shadowing, hounding, with the ever-present volte-face of roles between the predator and prey.

The last part is an assured constant should a hunt be the dogging one partake in, serving also as it's innermost component, source of peril, and producer of casualties.

Only when the hunt is over when a participant stood in the blood puddle of another, can one ascertain whether he is a hunter or the hunted.

"Missed me again Luv!"

Her mother's teaching, which led to the last paragraph being carved into her psyche, was the only thing keeping her solemn against the comical atmosphere her so-called 'prey' had called upon.

Four sonics streaked through the air, fired in an interval and formation where parrying or dodging any would ensure another making its mark.

To withstand this assault unscratched would be improbable unless of course, he or she is creative enough to figure out an unheard of defense method on the spot.

"Guess this is inevitable! Snap!"

Just as he vocally declared the snake snapped his fingers. A miniature boom echoed and distorted the space in front of him, pulsating all of Temperance's projectile to oblivion.

Pseudo-science or magic, what he did is basically creating a vacuum shield to defend against her vacuum blades.

The display, in spite of its sheer ridiculousness, turned on whatever klaxons originally left off inside her head.

She can spam deadly blades of wind thanks only to her family heirloom, and this jester performed the same feat, albeit slightly altered, as easy as snapping his own fingers, literally.

Annoying he may be, Temperance knew he was only masquerading the role of a fool.

"Huh, was meaning to teleport out of here but hey! As long as it works!"

A very-very convincing one at that.

Temperance sighed as she hid among the trees, fully aware that her stealth was for naught.

Not even for a breath had she managed to escape the crawler's notice, though all and all it is to be expected since she's facing the most slippery of all snakes.

Like in action movies, she jumped out of her hiding spot and let loose at the exposed target. Firing while sailing horizontally through the air before returning into concealment, rolling right after landing and finally crouching safely behind one of the many trees.

The small windows allowed her to aim and release three shots in total. Unlike last time, Temperance focused on pulling back her 'string' further back rather than choreographing their formation.

Her latest attack is nothing more than three 'arrows' fired consecutively after another, lacking in elegance but effective in the department of brutality.

Each of the gust possess enough intensity to destroy a single 'air shield', while the interval between them make up for the simplistic pattern and ensure timing where the second volley is expected to hit while his shield is down. Of course, there is also the third hail, let fly because it's always better to be safe than sorry.

Their distance considered dodging was never an option, yet, in a fashion even more ridiculous and cartoonish than last time, Crowley did just that.

"Eyat! Thwup! Hyat!" (I don't really know how to write it, it's basically the sounds link made when he does anything)

Forming a C with his entire body the first arrow simply hit thin air where his torso was a second ago. Crowley dodges the second arrow by jumping in an exaggerated fashion, performing a mid-air split while he's at it. Letting gravity do the rest of the work, his form unbroken as his crotch hits the ground with a not so easy on the ear thud.

Regardless of the pain he received, the consequences are much less than being hit by her last shot, said arrow sailing harmlessly above his head.

He did all that in a split second, not forgetting to add extra flare into his movement, and of course, making himself look plus sound as ridiculous as possible.

If that's any indication, Temperance now knows that he's toying with her and nothing more.

'And that's exactly what I want.'

Slowing down her breathing Temperance attempt to further blend into nature thus masking her presence. Just like last time the gesture held no significance, regardless, she poured every iota of her focus as if oblivious to the fact.

Disregarding futility her life depends on it after all.

To Crowley, this entire thing is nothing more than a source of amusement. Thus, Temperance's survival depends on just how much can she keep up the pressure without forcing his hands.

'Push him too hard, and he'll get serious. Bore him too much, and he'll get serious… this fucking sucks…'

It's not like she'll lose to him immediately, her title of kinslayer wasn't just for show after all, with kills of several first-spheres and even an Auditio under her belt.

But this is a war, she reminded herself. And victory over one battle would not guarantee the outcome she desires.

She already knew of who Crowley is plus just what he is capable of, and is wise enough to assume the trickster retain a hidden ace up his sleeve. Temperance will have to be extra careful, and taking into account that he's the worst possible matchup for her, the whole thing would be a 50/50 coin flip.

A good odds when facing a demon like him, problem is it'll be one of those fights where she'll have to give 100% and go beyond that at one point. Thus the assumed aftermath is one where she'll be unable to lift a single finger, leaving her open and vulnerable as any damsel in distress would…

'Guess that carrot of a hero actually rubbing off on me…fuck…'

Temperance hates to admit it, but the Rider of Red certainly holds a better candle of entertainment compared to this jerk. Or maybe she only thinks so because with him, she wasn't the one who got the short end of the stick.

'Not really the best time to think about this…' She admonished herself.

Survival comes first, she can worry about her relationship with possible future targets later.

It's obvious that's this squabble isn't going to wrap itself up anytime soon…

"Welp, as lovely as this dance of ours is Luv… I'm afraid my time is up, not in a metaphorical sense though, cause I'm not planning to [Answer the final question] anytime soon..."

Or not.

"Don't let it get to you, dear! You certainly know how to make things not boring and boring at the same time! And that's something! Really! It's just that my schedule is really tight and I got places to be! Can't afford to be even second late! Otherwise, that fart of a priest will nag me into [Oblivion]! Literally!"

Temperance's isn't one who'd take anything coming out of a Demon's mouth at face value, with the opposite is integral when dealing with demons, especially ones who bother going the length to dress properly.

Yet, she doubted that the information was fabricated. Michael did say that the Lumen Sage was a fake one. Maybe it was a demon with the element of Light? But that still doesn't explain its usage of modern firearms...

"Which is something unbelievable when you think about it. I'm a demon, you're an angel, even if only half, and me being the punctual one! The world' really is coming to an end! No doubt about that!"

That sends a chill down her spine. She dealt with world-ending plots before, whether it is an attempt at the final solution from the Hierarchy of Laguna or the more classic strive of enslaving the human race by one wannabe demon lord.

Point is, Temperance can tell when an individual aims to do something big, and despite the air of improvisation and spontaneity Crowley's giving off, her instinct dictates should she fail to beat him at a given time, then the crawler would produce the most dire of reverberation to date.

"Guess that's all then. Now if you'll excuse me, my chariot beckons…"

Bodily reflex overwrite her thoughts as Temperance body threw itself to the side. The motion held no grace nor did it had a trajectory allowing for immediate movement after landing, a simple jerking motion to the right as crude as it is sudden.

It got the job done, that is saving her life.

Trifling inches of air separates her from the car appearing out of nowhere, dashing through the spot she was standing on mere moments ago. In one fluid movement, the vehicle performed what will in the future be known as a 'drift'. Without losing any of its impetus, it opened its own door and swooped Crowley in, the crawler now sitting comfortably in the driver's seat.

The first thing he did was to step on the gas, her keen ear picking up the increased octave of the engine's hum.

Or maybe it's because the car is now coming right at her, full speed at that, and she couldn't dodge.

"[Iudicum!]."

Fresh wind filled the area as green shrouded Temperance's body, four emerald peacock wings sprouting out of her back. In less than a blink she lifted off from the ground, and in a second her bowed was primed and ready, another half of a moment later she fired.

No tricks or restraint, this shot was 'the best' she can muster under the situation.

A tornado impossibly focused towards a single point, powerful enough to shred even empyrean armor. Normally she would've let it run wild and lashes it against multiple targets, another sign that she really needs to expand her arrays of stronger single target attacks.

Regardless of sensible epiphany, the result yielded was nothing more than a spiderwebs on the front glass. The car, not slowing down as it passed Temperance who is still mid-air.

"THAT'S WHY THEY CALL IT A WINDSHIELD DARLIN!!!"

Obviously proud of himself Crowley let out a loud cackle akin to a father gratified of his terrible pun, by the time she lands neither his crow or the rev of his car were audible. If it weren't for the fresh track and toppled trees, one can even argue that he was never here in the first place.

Temperance clicked her tongue in annoyance, her green grow dimming as her wings vanished. Counter-productive doesn't even begin to cover this encounter, none of her question was answered, and she now has to deal with newer more complex ones to boot. Seriously, how does Michael ever put up with any of this detective bull-crap.

"(Sigh) at least this is as tangled up as it gets…"

Nothing else to do here besides moping around, and she still hasn't come up with a good enough story to whatever happened to her pursuit of Griffon and the formerly Assassin of Black.

"At least I won't have to worry about as much by tomorrow morning."

Michael's going to go and meet with the shady priest at said time, probably planning to get some facts straight. Hopefully that'll be enough to stop the Ex-Ruler from doing whatever it is he's planning on.

"Guess that's about it."

Whether she likes it or not, her next course of action is to rendezvous with Rider and Archer of Red, hopefully only the latter if she's lucky...

Which considering her luck so far, would probably go the other way around.

"Time to face the music…" she half grumbled under her breath, if it's any consolation, the ni

(SHATTERING SFX)

Multiple cracks appeared out of nowhere, followed by the unpleasant gurgling hiss of the Empussa demons.

On instinct she let loose and killed the one spawning nearby, but to her horror, the sound instead of stopping only continued.

Did that bastard Crowley did this!? He certainly has the capability but no, at the very least he would've left something stronger to deal with her.

No, this is the work of someone opening the gate to Limbo for the first time, someone's who's unskilled enough in securing his own space even low level demons can invade, but is ironically strong enough to cover an area this large.

Whoever he, she, or it is, one thing is for certain.

This means more work for her.

"Oh, me and my big fucking mouth…"

Cursing once again she took aim and began firing.

XxX

Figures I need something to make up for the long updates, so my personally devised timeline of 'Hell' in Nasuverse. I used the term timeline very loosely because despite arranging the events chronologically, I don't really have the exact year cleared out.

The age of gods ended, however, two new layers is erected between [Earth] and the [Reverse side of the World] fostered by the faith appearing post-age of gods. The extra layer consists of one realm located 'above' and the other 'bellow' the world.

Via the similar aspect of 'hell' existing beneath the mortal realm shared by major religion that follows, gods and phantasmal species with specific alignment to the underworld managed to sustain themselves albeit losing a considerable chunk of their power.

For the same reason, all underworld are pushed to merge into one hellscape. The realm devolves into a state of civil wars between deities and their own image of 'hell'.

'Devils' and 'Demons' are created and are viewed as the natural denizens of the realm below the earth. Their inborn attunement allows them to gain 'innate' advantage over the older generations of phantasmal species as well as the weakened divine spirits

A singular image of [Ultimate evil = Forsaking/Abandonment] is conceived, the immense belief directed towards said hypothetical monument rivaling ones that gave rise to the gods of old. Initially known by many names and differing in 'personality' according to where and when 'it' is called, the Identity eventually named itself Lucifer.

Lucifer's position as master of hell is cemented with the growth and spreading of contemporary religion. With ease he overpowered the survivor from the age of gods, eliminating a large number and hegemonizing hell in the process. Only a handful of original nature spirits remains.

The first act of human possession is performed by Lucifer, in the process, he tasted human intellect and impotence

Intrigued by his first-hand experience, Lucifer engrossed himself more and more with mortal matter, reaching the conclusion that his 'current being' would not survive the onslaught of time and the eventual 'evolution' of humans.

Lucifer abdicate his throne and sets forth to the human world with the objective of 'retirement'. In the process, he successfully convinced several old gods to accompany him, persuading them that:

"Godhood is overrated. We did our jobs for who knows how long, but when was the last time we experience the euphoria of satisfaction? Humans, on the other hand, live their own tiny lives. And while rare in frequency, some are more than content with the one page they write compared to the encyclopedia that is our existence.

What says you we give their way a shot? Scale-down on the whole divinity and enjoy the ride of the unknown for once? After all, what's there we got to lose?"

Lucifer's retirement runs counter to the supposed worldview. Fearing further distortion that follows [Gaia] cuts away [Hell] from its establishment, pushing it further than even the [Reverse side of the world].

[Hell = Parallel Underneath] own separate history is finalized. Becoming a unique formation that is not a part of [Earth] but also not detached enough to be considered as a parallel world.

The power vacuum occurring, as a result, sent hell spiraling towards an age of chaos even worse than the first. The last surviving phantasmal species is wiped out, whereas the concept of Demons and Daemons are amalgamated into one.

[Nelo Angelo = The first fallen] arrives, theorized to originally be an inhabitant of [Heaven = Parallel Above] though the truth of his origin remains shrouded in mystery.

Via military prowess, Nelo Angelo ended the second power struggle, his rule enforcing the survival of the fittest rule's implementation.

Blood brothers Sparda and Mundus seeks to end Nelo Angelo's tyranny and bring about a more peaceful age for hell, but are otherwise outmatched against his army.

Interested in their endeavor, Lucifer broke through his original neutrality and decided to endorse the two rebels.

He provides Sparda with cumulative knowledge of martial artistry and introduce him to human weaponry, while simultaneously tutoring Mundus in the demonic arcane arts.

The two returned to hell and successfully usurped Nelo Angelo, defeating his army as well as the four pillars of Hell in the process.

Sparda decided to leave for the human world whereas Mundus opted to remain and manage hell.

Sparda's strikes a deal with Gaia and Alaya brokered by Lucifer. Promising to act as the planet's guardian against any threat originating from hell. The agreement serves as a precaution against future threats.

Hell's aggression increases over the course of the 18th and 19th century, Alaya theorizes that invasion is imminent at the start of the 20th century and is spearheaded by the underworld's current ruler who is assumed to be Mundus.

Seeking answers Sparda began to look for an alternative method to enter Hell after Lucifer's refusal to accommodate for his travel. Instead, he is directed by Lucifer to go after the hierarchy of Laguna, as they are the only existing group interested enough in subjugating Hell to develop their own method to voyage there.

Sparda meets the angel Eva while battling the forces of Paradiso, the latter tasked with the duty of assassinating Mundus in order to preserve [Earth] by the Four Primarchs.

Deciding to temporarily set their difference aside to further their separate goals, the two teams up in order to secure a weapon capable of opening a portal to Hell.

So that's about now for my planned timeline. Yes, I heavily refer to Vertigo's own illustration of Lucifer because he's the epitome of badass with class (and I'm not totally worshiping him or anything) and we finally hear of Sparda and Eva for the second time! Yay! Dante and Vergil comes a bit later along the line, but I'll give you the timeline of Heaven's next and spoiler alert, it's not going to be fun for the nords and Valhalla.

This also serves as an explanation of how angels and demons are capable of bypassing Noble Phantasm, they do not adhere to the same rule as human does, exempting them from the normal scenario of cause and effect (like seriously, Dante gets stabbed at least once in every game and that's an obvious proof).

That doesn't make them overpowered, of course. In a nutshell, the lower ranking of outsiders will still have to abide by the regular rules, but a high enough ranked one will have an easier time in bending the rules in general.

Guess that's all for now, hopefully I'll be able to update my stories more frequently, till next time Voidwalker77 signing out.

CIAO!


	8. Announcement

Hey everyone, sorry for being dead for so long. College is merciless and it's only now I finally got some free time.

Anyway, this notice is unfortunately made to inform you that RubeusAter will most likely enter a period of cryo-sleep.

Truth is, I had meant for this story as a short prequel piece for another project, but I got too absorbed thanks to DMC 5's initial release. Sadly the flames died out and here we are.

Rest assured that I feel terrible, and I'm currently working on another story that I will take much more seriously.

As a parting gift, at least for now, I'll sketch up a timeline for heaven similar to that of hells' in the previous chapter.

XxX

The age of gods ended, however, two new layers are erected between [Earth] and the [Reverse side of the World] fostered by the faith appearing and developing around the beginning of the Age of Man. The extra layer consists of one realm located 'above' and the other 'below' the world.

Via the similar aspect of 'Heaven' existing above the mortal realm shared by the newly emerging major religions, gods and phantasmal species with specific alignment to 'paradise' accessible to humans managed to sustain themselves albeit losing a considerable chunk of their power

The many realms are pushed into the same plane of existence, and a truce was agreed upon by the surviving factions, anticipating also the emergence of a newer batch of phantasmal species.

[Angels] properly came into existence and are viewed as the natural denizens of the realm above the earth. Their inborn attunement granting them 'innate' advantage over the older generations of phantasmal species as well as the weakened divine spirits

Wishing for peace and stable development. The first generation Angels agreed not to antagonize any of the predecessors and maintain the foregoing armistice.

As contemporary religion grows in influence, the empyreans began to suffer fracturing within their ranks. Split among those determined to enact the [The Creator's] will and eradicate every other religion and those simply wishing for peaceful coexistence.

The second group allied themselves with the other preexisting heavenly affiliation, whereas the first group renamed themselves [The Hierarchy of Laguna] and proclaim the heavenly realm to be [Paradiso]

War begins between the [The Hierarchy of Laguna] and the rest of the Heavenly realm, running counter to the supposed worldview. Fearing further distortion [Gaia] cuts away [Heaven] from its establishment, pushing it further than even the [Reverse side of the world] akin to what it did with [Hell].

[Heaven = Parallel Above's] own separate history is finalized. Becoming a unique formation that is not a part of [Earth] but also not detached enough to be considered as a parallel world

The war enters a period of stalemate, neither side not being able to wipe out the other. [The Hierarchy of Laguna] began morphing into a divine, but monstrous beings, drawing from Judeo-Christian concepts of angels.

Fearing of [The Hierarchy of Laguna's] high capability of proliferation, the opposing angels search for methods of empowerment. Finding the concept of [Names = True Identity] after receiving direction from their allies, they began naming themselves after religious places, artifacts, as well as real angels from the [Human Realm = Earth]

The power boost the angels receive differs according to the name the angels individually picked, resulting in a disparity in power among their ranks leading to an accidental establishment of a new structure.

Further adoption of appearance based on human perception resulted again in increased strength. Now, donning fully the visage of winged angels, the second empyrean faction named themselves [The Skyfarers = Walkers of the Firmamment].

Continued usage of [Names = True Identity] reveals several distinct side effects. Not more than one angel can utilize a single name, and that certain name, especially those of 'real' angels and one used by the past empyrean who had perished, requires the adopter to possess enough strength otherwise risking destruction from its weight.

The strongest of all names are identified, being [Michael = Of Flame]; [Raphael = Of Wind]; [Uriel = Of Earth]; And [Gabriel = Of Water]. Alluding also to the classic understanding of elements and granting the bearers of said names the title of [Four Primarchs = Primary Forces].

The practices evolve, and a Skyfarer is expected to pick their names at birth. Embracing only 'named' identities if they can fulfill the established parameter.

[The Skyfarers = Walkers of the Firmament's] newfound strength put pressure on the Hierarchy. The latter fearing of complete ruination in the long-run began to aim instead for the non-angelic factions to tip the scale in their favor in addition to mimicking the Skyfareres usage of names and developing their version of it dubbed [Title = Bestowed Blessing] which is much more mechanical.

Setting their sight on the mortal realm and seeking to exert their influence there, [The Hierarchy of Laguna] set in on sending their forces to Earth, finding that the stronger they are the larger the resistance the met in the process of traveling. Whereas the weaker ones, despite being able to reach their intended destination could only exert minor influence and visible only to some.

To solve the situation, the Hierarchy compromised and offer the humans to trade obedience in exchange for power. Those who are capable of perceiving them and accept the reciprocity became known as [Lumen Sages = Watcher of Light].

Seeking to prove their mettle, The Lumen Sage mounted an assault on the retired Lucifer only to be soundly defeated.

Interested in their machinations, the former king of hell leaked the Hierarchy's methods to [Hell]. Causing numerous demons to mimic the practice for their purposes. Those who are capable of perceiving said demons and accept the reciprocity became known as [Umbra Witches = Overseer of Darkness].

Behind closed doors, the [Skyafarers'] center command formed a deal with the [Umbran Witches'] remnant, consisting of only two individuals. Supplying them with information regarding the Lumen Sages, allowing the two to hunt the group and hinder [Paradiso's] growth of influence on earth.

The expected successor of the [Four Primarchs = Primary Forces] is picked. Eight candidates, two for each name, are appointed. The most promising of them being the angel named Eva and Angeal, under Uriel and Michael respectively. Angeal becomes the first angel to have the last name, becoming a unique existence and naming himself Angeal Genesis.

During a particular deployment, the eight candidates come face to face with the last [Umbra Witch] Bayonetta. Angeal goes against command and detached from the group, zealously pursuing her due to her affiliation with demonic forces.

Angeal suffers a crushing defeat but was spared due to Bayonetta's familiarity with the current [Michael]. Angeal deduces the relationship through reasoning, disappointed that the mentor he held in high regard would fraternize with the enemy.

[Paradiso] began to secretly contact Angeal, promising him the chance to overcome his master and exceeds her. Disillusioned about his master and wishing to maintain the perfect image of [Michael] Angeal accepts the deal and becomes a sleeper agent for the hierarchy. Recruiting also a disciple of Gabriel, Io, who is infatuated with him.

Through a series of conspiracies, [Paradiso] manages to break through the stalemate and inflict great damage to their opponent. A great number of the non-angelic realm was destroyed as a result.

Suspicious of the hierarchy's consecutive success, Michael and Gabriel began to feel chary of their apprentice's allegiance. Uriel and Raphael, along with their students, were sent to [Valhalla] and [Tír na nÓg] respectively, whom they suspect will be Paradiso's next target.

After a series of improbable events, Eva discovers Io's involvement in the destruction of their ally. Only to be confronted by Angeal also and were nearly killed. The two framed Eva for their crimes, unaware that she was rescued by Bayonetta. the Umbra witch dispatched by their mentor to keep an eye on the traitors while also ordered to assassinate them to prevent infighting.

[Valhalla] and [Tír na nÓg] were destroyed and their denizens eradicated, whereas [Fiddler's Green] and [Folkvangr] vanish from everyone's radar. The Hierarchy began to mount the final assault on the Skyfarers.

Eva was rattled by her discoveries, wondering how and why could things take a turns for the worst. Bayonetta sheds light on the truth of individuality and advises her to stay true to herself first and worry about everything else second.

Now informed of traitors within their midst, the Skyfarers succeed in their counterattack and push the Hierarchy back. Michael confronted Angeal, the latter lashing out for her unbecoming as a [Primarch].

Eva arrives at the climax turnaround, substituting Michael in fighting Angeal and allowing her to take command of the battle. With newfound resolution Eva manages to beat Angeal, realizing that his heinous acts were empowered by his one-sided love for Michael as well as his inferiority complex.

Io intercepted Eva and bought Angeal time to escape, the lattermost trying to seek for Paradiso's aid only to be eliminated on sight despite his service. Io reveals that he helped Angeal out of love, and took her own life after realizing that he has died.

Realizing how little she knows of herself and the world, Eva request to be sent down to earth to better learn both. Becoming their agents on the ground but also fulfilling the Skyfarers intelligence needs. Bayonetta personally requests her to keep in touch and the two becomes vast friends.

Years later, she receives information regarding increased demonic activities, one that the Skyfarers suspects to be masterminded by Hell's active Ruler, Mundus. Knowing that it has something to do with Bayonetta's disappearance, she accepts the mission of finding the current king of Hell and eliminate him. Running into the demonic warrior Sparda in the process.

Lacking the means to enter Hell, Sparda convinces her to help him obtain a weapon needed to cut through space most likely under the possession of the Hierarchy. Agreeing, the two put asides their differences and team-up.

XxX

Worldbuilding is much easier than writing actual story IMO, and if there's any other update in this story, it will most likely be something like this or another announcement. So please be careful in keeping your hopes up.

That is all for now, Voidwalker77 signing out. CIAO!


End file.
